The Grey Warlord
by Sebias of Redwall
Summary: A band of shrews are thrust into a harsh world when their clan is attacked by corsairs. Meanwhile, a wolverine emperor makes an alliance with the king of Terramort to help him raze the mountain fortress of Salamandastron to the ground.
1. Prologue

**SOUTHSWARD**

The Grey Warlord was coming!

Erksine the weasel stumbled over a stool as he ran to the high tower window. He was short for a weasel – though that most likely had more to do with his old age than anything. His silver-grey fur, normally clean and combed to near perfection, was spiked out in fear.

"Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear," Erkisne mumbled, picking himself up and readjusting his spectacles back on his nose. Poking his head out of the window, he gazed down at the scene far below.

Castle Stargazer was more of an observatory than an actual fortress. Its four stone walls surrounding it were mere fences compared to most castles and strongholds.

It was the headquarters of the Southsward Stargazer Society. Their members consisted of creatures of all sorts. Woodlander and vermin alike would travel from all around to become students in Castle Stargazer. The masters who lived there would teach their pupils the art of healing, prophesying, and anything concerning seers or soothsayers.

However, their peaceful atmosphere had been shattered when the message had arrived: The Grey Warlord was coming.

Erksine saw the shapes of creatures fighting in the courtyard. The enemy outnumbered them tenfold.

"Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear," he continued to pant as he heard the sound of heavy footfalls from just outside his room's door. The weasel scurried over to his desk and snatched a book that he had left open. Clutching it tight to his chest, he dove behind one of his many bookshelves.

There was the sound of voices from the other side of the door, demanding that he unlock it and surrender. Erksine, however, remained silent.

The old weasel couldn't help but jump with surprise as the door crashed inward, and a massive, armored figure made his way through.

"Search everywhere," the large creature said, indicating for his creatures to enter, "Find the weasel, but don't harm him."

 _The message was true_ , the weasel thought, _The Grey Warlord is here!_ Erksine closed his eyes and silently made a plea to Fate that maybe, just maybe, the creature and his followers wouldn't find him.

However, it became apparent that Fate had other plans in mind as one of the soldiers gave a shout.

"I found him! He's behind there!"

Moments later, rough paws dragged the old vermin from his hiding place. His captors brought him before their master. Erksine fell to his knees and bowed his head.

"Please, let me go! I haven't done anything wrong! We are but a peaceful –"

The Grey Warlord held up a paw, and the weasel ceased his babbling.

"Look me in the eyes, weasel." The voice was smooth and gentle. "I don't wish to harm you. Please, don't grovel at my footpaws like some mere slave. Get up."

Erksine slowly stood up and met the larger creature's gaze.

The Grey Warlord's eyes were green. They seemed to glow with a power that the weasel had never seen before.

"There, that's better. Now, I've heard some very disturbing reports about you and your followers spreading rumors. I decided to come and inspect the situation myself. Don't worry, you and your comrades will not be harmed as long as you realize that resistance is futile, and answer the questions I'll ask you."

"We haven't been spreading 'mere rumors'!" the weasel said indignantly. His frail, old body seemed to surge with a hidden strength as he continued. "Creatures deserve to know the truth! I have foreseen it in the stars. A great prophecy of doom! A doom that shall befall on all of the lands of vermin and woodlander alike, if they don't set aside petty grievances and fight it together!"

"Well, apparently you've been looking at the stars through a pair of very dirty spectacles, my friend. I'm sorry but I can't have you stirring all of Southsward with your…misleading warning." He turned and gestures to his soldiers. "Guards, gently escort this weasel downstairs. We'll take him back with us. Perhaps if he realizes the error in his preaching, I shall have him retire in a nice cottage of his own somewhere."

"Misleading warning? Pah! I – I don't … You can't do this!"

The Grey Warlord turned back to the weasel and gave him a long, even look. "Once again, you are proven incorrect. I can do this, and I will, for the good of the Lands."

Beckoning once again to his beasts, he took a step back as they escorted Erksine out of the room. Heaving a long sigh, the massive creature went over to the window and looked out with his unflinching green eyes.

The Grey Warlord had come!


	2. Chapter 1 Book I: The Warlord Watches

**NORTHLANDS**

The wind howled on the Northern Sea. Dark clouds on the horizon promised rain for those that lived on the coast. Waves slapped onto the rocky shore, and even the scent in the air was damp and depressing.

Slipgut the searat was feeling as gloomy as the weather.

"It's not fair!" He grumbled to himself, "How come it has to be my turn to sit in this flea ridden crow nest, while me mates are below deck, swiggin' down grog an' eatin' t' their hearts' content? You'd think they'd at least give me a cup of heated grog, But no," he drawled out mockingly. "All they say is 'Get yer sorry tail up there, Slipgut! Hope you're still there after the storm passes… Or not!' Hmph! I hope they all 'ave headaches and sore tummies by tomorrow. It'd serve 'em right!"

Suddenly something caught his eye on the coast, and the searat squinted, trying to make out the details through the darkness. Perhaps if he spotted something of interest, the captain would let him have the night off as a reward!

"Well, well! It looks like my luck might be changing fer th' better – an' about time too!" Climbing swiftly down the rigging, he plopped onto the deck and ran off to the captain's quarters.

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The captain of the dark ship was at that moment sitting in his armchair, looking at some charts sprawled on his desk.

Captain Hookarm could only be described as fearsome, from his eye patch to his boots. The hook that earned him his name was his pride and joy. After losing his left paw and wrist in an unfortunate fight with an eel, he had fashioned a brutal weapon that he fondly called "The Ripper" to replace his missing paw.

And what a weapon it was! Forged by a mole smith that had the ill luck to fall into the rat's claws, the hook had been made from the strongest steel that Hookarm could get. It was woe to any beast who'd have the misfortune of getting on the wrong side of the captain.

The searat leaned back on his chair. He was faced with a dilemma. The coastal villages of the North were sparse and few. He had set course to the colder lands, hoping that the lack of other corsairs would serve to make plundering easier, yet that particular strategy had yet to bear fruit. He had figured out the hard way why raiding the Northlands wasn't a popular option with the other raiders.

"Hmm…" Hookarm tapped his chin thoughtfully, glancing back down at his map. "Where in this cold, Fate-forsaken place could I find some slaves? Someone has t' live up 'ere, after all. So where are they?"

It was at that moment that Slipgut knocked on Hookarm's cabin door.

"Quit that confounded bangin'!" Hookarm snapped out, "It's unlocked. If you 'ave somethin' t' say, then get in 'ere an' say it!"

Poking his head through the door, Slipgut waved a paw cheerfully. He didn't seem at all put out by Hookarm's temper.

"Hey there, Capt'n!" the lookout announced, "You might not remember, but I was assigned as th' lookout tonight. You'll never guess what I saw on shore!"

"A walking barrel of grog," Hookarm guessed sarcastically, glancing down at his charts again.

"Har-har! You're a funny one, Capt'n," Slipgut sniggered, "Try again!"

Hookarm toyed with the sharp edge of his hook. He was losing his patience. "Listen, Slipgut, I've busy right now, so if you don't 'urry up an' start tellin' me what you saw, then I'll 'ave you thrown over the side. Got that?"

Slipgut brushed the threat aside, but continued to answer Hookarm's question. "Aye-aye, Capt'n. Well, I was up on th' crow nest, you see, an' I saw a bunch of campfires on shore, just below th' cliffs."

Hookarm was instantly alert. "How many were there? Were they woodlanders? Speak up!"

"Er… um, well… it's kinda dark out there with the storm coming and all…"

Hookarm let out a disappointed sigh. "Oh well. Hopefully they won't be able t' see us either. Alright then, nip down smart-like and get Scratch. An' tell th crew t' get ready – we're finally going on a raid."

"Aye-aye Captain," Slipgut called from over his shoulder as he ran out the door, closing it with a bang.

As Hookarm waited for his first mate, he buckled on a sheath and armed himself with his cutlass. A little while later, there was a knock on the door and Scratch entered. He was a tall, thin rat with dark fur, and he smelt like he hadn't bathed in a month – which was, actually, an accurate assumption.

"You wanted to see me?"

"Aye. How many fightin' beasts 'ave we got in all, Scratch," Hookarm asked.

"'Round two hundred I'd say, capt'n. That is, if we include those half-a-score of ferret mercenaries that we picked up on Stonehelm Island."

Hookarm nodded his head slowly as he thought up their strategy. "Hmm… Alright, I want a score or so of rats t' stand guard on th' Waveworm. We'll land on shore an' scout out the lay of th' land before we do anything. Once we get more information on our foes, I'll figure out a plan. Aye?"

"Aye, Capt'n!"

And with that, Scratch left to give the crew their orders.

Once Scratch had departed, Hookarm pulled out a flagon of grog from inside his desk and took a swig from it. Letting out a belch, he mused aloud to himself. "What kind of buffoons would be stupid enough t' 'ave blazing campfires in th' Northlands? They must be daft."

Setting his flagon back in the desk, he quickly threw on a cloak and swept out of the cabin. Walking over to the ship's railing, he peered out at the dark shore line, where even from his low position he could see the fires flickering through the dark night. Hookarm allowed himself a fanged grin. "Aaaah," he sighed, breathing in the salt air, "A fine night fer a raid."

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The creatures living on the shore were a clan of some three score shrews. Led by their chieftain, Broge, they had wandered the lands of the north until they found what appeared to be the perfect home to settle down and raise their young. The bulk of the freshly built camp was made in a cluster of small caves that dotted the side of massive, rocky cliffs. Besides the caves, a few wooden huts had also been built on the rocky shore.

The sun had already gone down in the west. Rain clouds loomed above, seeming to press down a gloomy atmosphere on the land below.

At the base of the cliff, two shrew brothers made their way around the caves, seeing that everything was shipshape, and that everybeast had tucked in for the night.

"It's nice that we finally 'ave a place tae call 'ome," one of the shrews –Known as Broge, chieftain of the Northtrekker clan– remarked aloud with his thick accent, "I mean, imagine if we 'ad tae spend another winter wanderin'! I don't think we would've made it. What do ye say, Rones? Ye think it was worth all of th' dangers an' hardships of travelin'?"

Broge was broad shouldered for a shrew. He wore a kilt, and carried a rapier at his side. He wasn't one to take any chances. His companion, Rones, was half a head shorter, though no less stocky.

"Aye," Rones replied, "That it be. As pretty a place as ye could wish for." Indicating the dark sky above with a jerk of his head, he added, "I wonder if th' boys will be alright with this 'ere storm blowin' in. They probably couldn't even see th' shore from th' lookout cave in this weather! It's getting' a bit chilly too…"

Broge rolled his eyes. "Oh I'm sure they'll be just fine. They're tough lads. Besides, I'm sure they'll 'ave lots of fun stayin' up all night an' telling each other stories around a nice, warm campfire." He let out a wistful sigh. "Ah… Remember how we used to be like them, Rones? Back when we were young?"

"Hey, speak for yourself," Rones said indignantly, "I'm not old! Personally I feel as young and spry as ever. Hmph! The nonsense!"

Broge grinned and gave a mock bow. "Well I beg your pardon, o ageless one, and I thank ye for your prompt correction. Anyway, it seems like everythin' is all in order around th' camp. Do ye want tae go check on Flugg and Tragg afore it started tae rain?"

"Well, I guess I might honor ye with my presence," Rones sniffed with an air of importance, "And while I'm at it, I'll make sure ye don't trip an' fall flat on your face or somethin' else foolish."

"Hah! Says the shrew who once walked straight into a tree!"

"Ooh! That's a low blow. Besides, I'm almost positive that it was the tree's fault."

They continued their friendly bickering as they walked along. If the storm clouds hadn't blocked out the light from the moon, they might've seen a dark ship slowly making its way toward them. As it was, they continued on, never dreaming that all that they loved and cared for could be in danger.

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Up in the lookout cave, huddled around a small fire were two young beasts: Tragg, son of Broge; and Flugg, the son of Rones.

Tragg was taller and a bit thinner than most shrews his age. His eyes were a light grey, and they seemed to shine with mischief. Flugg, on the other paw, was stocky and broad shouldered – taking after his father and his uncle.

Both were squatted around a small fire in the center of their small cave. Tragg had his back to the fire as he sat watching the shore line, keeping a tight grip on his rapier. He'd promised his father that he would make sure things went along perfectly if Broge gave them the chance to prove themselves to him, and Tragg didn't plan on going back on his word.

Feeling the heat from the flames starting to die down a bit, he turned and nudged Flugg. His cousin had been leaning with his back against the cave wall. His eyes snapped open and he brandished his rapier wildly as he jumped up.

"What is it? Is it vermin?! Jus' point me in their direction, Tragg. I'll make 'em wail like wee babes when I'm through wit' 'em!"

"Woah, calm down," Tragg said, pushing the other shrew back into a sitting position. "There are no vermin. I jus' wanted tae tell ye that th' fire is dying down. Ye should get some more wood afore it starts rainin'. I did it last time, so it's your turn."

Flugg gave a look of disbelief at the flickering flames. "Huh, maybe I should drag a whole tree in here next time. That thing burns up firewood like there's no tomorrow!" Crawling out of the cave, he glanced up at the dark sky.

"Wouldn't that jus' be typical if it started pourin' rain right now? Hmph, wouldn't surprise me in th' least. Sometimes it feels like Fate itself doesn't like me!" He shook his fist up at the sky. "What did I ever do tae ye, eh?"

Tragg smiled as he watched his best friend running to and fro as he gathered sticks, complaining the whole time. Flugg had a habit of doing that.

Luckily for Flugg, the rain didn't come until after he had finished collecting wood. Tragg scooted away from the entrance as Flugg carried a bundle of branches into the cave.

Setting it down, the shrew gratefully sat down and stretched out his arms.

"Ach… Well at least that's over wit'." Tragg said cheerfully. Flugg's reply was a grunt.

As he began to feed the campfire again, Tragg was suddenly struck with a brilliant idea. He squinted down at the pieces of wood in his paw. "Hmm… Flugg?"

"Yeah?"

"Why didn't you get any proper firewood?"

Flugg slowly sat up. "Uh…I already did."

Tragg shook his head. "Nope. Not good ones. These things couldn't even be called twigs, really. They're quite pitiful if ye think about it."

Flugg opened his mouth to fire out a retort when he caught sight of the mischief twinkling in Tragg's eyes. He realized that he had been messing with him. He tapped the side of his snout knowingly. "Ha! Ye thought I was takin' ye seriously, didn't ye? Well guess what, it didn't work?"

"Uh-huh." Tragg rolled his eyes. "I'm sure."

"What're ye two up tae?"

While both of them had been talking, Tragg's twin sister – a pretty young maid called Rosebud – had come up to the cave entrance. As she walked in, Flugg and Tragg called out greetings and scooted over, making room for her by the fire. She carried a steaming pot of stew, along with a few wooden bowls and spoons.

"Mmm… Is that turnip stew? Tragg asked, sniffing the air. "It sure smells good!"

Rosebud smiled as she passed them a bowl each. "Ye' can bet your whiskers on it! Ma says that this recipe puts a twinkle in your eye an' a spring in your step."

Filling up both of their bowls with a wooden ladle she remarked. "I wonder if Da and Uncle Rones are hungry."

Tragg looked at his twin curiously. "Why would ye' say that."

"I saw 'em climbing up th' path," she replied matter-of-factly. "I 'ad to pick up th' pace jus' so I could get 'ere afore 'em."

"What?" Flugg exclaimed as he jumped from his seat, trying to dust himself off. "Th' clan chief is coming up for an inspection, an' ye only thought tae tell us now?"

"Relax, Flugg, I doubt that Da wanted tae catch us nappin' or somethin' like that. He's not that kind of chief."

"But if we show him that we're responsible at guard duty, he might make us official clan members!"

Tragg was about to reply when Rosebud interrupted by waving her ladle. "I can hear 'em comin'! Shh…"

They all stood still as they listened. Broge and Rones' grumbling echoed up to them from the path.

"I don't remember this trail being so long," they heard Rones mutter from just outside the cave.

"That would be your ol' bones talking tae' ye, tellin' ye' tae' rest," Broge replied, then added with a sigh of relief, "Ah, we're here… finally."

Broge waved as he and Rones entered the cave. "Well, how are ye young 'uns doing," the chieftain asked, "Everythin' shipshape?"

"Yep," Tragg replied, "Everythin' is jus' great!"

"Do either of ye want any stew?" Rosebud asked. "There's a little bit leftover."

"I guess we could make sure it doesn't go tae waste, eh, Broge," Rones said as he sat down on a log with a large bowl of soup in his paws.

"How did ye' get up here, lassie?" Broge asked Rosebud, "Th' stew is still hot, so ye must've jus' come up 'ere, but I didn't see ye on our way up."

Rosebud put down the now-empty pot. "Oh, I just climbed up from 'round back. Ye' know that secret path that me an' Tragg found when we were out searching for berries? I took that one. I find that it's a bit quicker than the normal way."

"Well," Tragg said, "It's a good thing that it is a hard tae spot. Who knows what would happen if vermin or thieves found it."

"At least we can be sure that there will be no problems like that tonight." Flugg grinned. "I don't think that vermin are stupid enough tae attack on a cold, stormy night like this."

"I wouldn't be tae sure about that, laddie," Rones declared, shaking his head slowly. "Why, sometimes vermin bands will wait for a dark night like this. An' when you're not lookin', they slit your throat!" He made a cutting gesture across his neck.

Broge waved a paw dismissively. "I guess it's a good thing that we haven't seen any enemies around these parts, then. Still," he added, "We must be vigilant 'n' stay on our guard. Ye never know when somethin' bad might happen…"


	3. Chapter 2

**NORTHLANDS**

Hookarm watched as the _Waveworm_ slowly pulled away from the shore, where he and his crew had landed. So far, his plan had gone without a hitch.

The ship had dropped off Hookarm on the northern part of the coast. After he had sent some scouts out, he devised his strategy. The plan was for corsairs to split in two. A third, led by Scratch, would sweep up from the south end of the shore, while Hookarm took the rest and bottled the shrews against the cliffs.

The searats had landed on shore right as the rain started to downpour. They bunched together in a large group as they waited for their captain to give them their orders.

Hookarm pointed at a lean, brown rat. "Muskfur, take half-a-score of archers an' fan out up ahead. Kill anythin' that moves. But make sure that y' do it quietly! We don't need the whole shrew tribe t' wake up afore we're ready fer 'em!"

"Aye-aye, Capt'n!" Muskfur gave a smart salute then turned to his archers. "Come on, ya lazy lot, foller me!"

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Two old shrews sat huddled in a tent at the far edge of the shrew camp. They had been assigned as guards, which normally meant they would pace around the general area to ensure that nobeast would sneak up on the camp. However, the weather had driven them to seek shelter.

One of them, a grey-furred shrew named Macdol, let out a long yawn. He began to blink rapidly in an attempt to keep his eyes focused. "I can't wait until our relief guard comes. How 'bout ye, Berill? Ye lookin' forward t' crawlin' back into your own nice, warm bed in th' caves?"

Berill answered with a laugh. "Well, as tired as I am, I must admit that I'd prefer listenin' t' th' rain 'n' thunder then th' snores. Sometimes it's enough tae drive a beast crazy!"

"Eh," Macdol shrugged, "I've never really had any problem at sleepin'."

"I don't know how ye manage tae sleep through it all, mate."

"How 'bout I let ye in on a little secret…" Macdol smiled. The shrew deftly pulled two moss earplugs from his coat pocket. "This is why I can drop off like a log at night. I only got 'em for a few coins from a trader. They work fine. Ye can barely hear a thing wit' 'em on!"

"Mind if I try 'em?" Berill asked. "Maybe I could give ye somethin' for 'em… How 'bout my ol' dagger?"

Both shrews were so occupied talking that they didn't hear Muskfur and his platoon of archers creeping up until it was too late.

"Hey, did you hear that?" Macdol asked, his ears twitching.

"I don't hear anythin'." Berill shrugged.

"Huh, thought for sure that– ugh!"

The shrew suddenly jerked forward violently, then slumped over.

"Macdol, what's wrong!? What's th' matter–" Berill was abruptly silenced by an arrow piercing his back. He fell over dead. The tent flap was torn open and Muskfur poked his head in. Satisfied with what he saw, he nodded to his rats. "Come on, let's go."

They left the bodies where they fell. Neither of the two shrews would ever have to worry about guard duty again.

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Up in the lookout cave, Rones and Broge were entertaining Tragg, Flugg, and Rosebud with tales of their past adventures.

"An' then there was that one time when a weasel band tried tae rob us," Broge scratched his ear and shook his head slowly, "Those numpties tried tae throw sacks over our heads. Let me tell ye, we gave 'em lumps on top o' their lumps by the time we were finished wit' 'em."

Rones chuckled as he remembered the incident. "Aye. Those weasels were tough an' smelly, but me an' Broge had dealt with worse afore. They didn't even know what hit 'em! Why, I'll bet that most of 'em are still 'aving nightmares of ol' Bertha here." He tapped the hilt of his rapier – which he fondly called Bertha. It was named after his great, great, grandmother on his father's side.

"Could I hold your sword for a minute, Da?" Flugg asked, "I promise I won't chip th' blade or anythin'."

"Well… I guess. Here ye go." Rones handed over his sword over to Flugg, then continued on with their story.

"Ah, yes. Those weasels must've had brains the size of peas."

Rosebud abruptly stood up, chiding herself as she suddenly remembered something. "Sorry for interrupting, Rones, but I jus' recalled something. I told Ma that I was going tae help her wash th' dishes from dinner tonight… I forgot tae tell her that I was going tae come up here. I hope she's not worried or lookin' for me."

"Now, Rosebud, ye know ye should 'ave finished your chores afore ye came up here." Broge lectured his daughter mildly. "Ye an' Tragg are my children. That means that ye both 'ave tae be a good example tae the rest of your clanmates."

Tragg threw up his paws in a mock defensive gesture and grinned. "Woah, hold on. Keep my name out o' this. I haven't done anythin' wrong… recently."

Rosebud sister rolled her eyes at his words. "Uh-huh. Anyway…" she glanced at her father, "Does that mean I'll 'ave tae go back down an' let her know where I am?"

Before the chieftain could reply, Rones got up from his seat and took his drying cloak from where he had tossed it by the fire. "Tell ye what," he said, "I was going tae go stretch me legs anyway. I'll go skip on down tae the caves an' see if I can find some more vittles. While I'm in th' general area, I'll tell Eleanor that ye're up here. Sound like a good plan?"

Once Broge nodded his head in consent, Rosebud turned to Rones with a grateful smile on her face.

"Oh, thank ye, Uncle Rones! I really appreciate it. Ye know what? Tomorrow, I'm going tae bake ye a nice blueberry cake!"

Rones blushed modestly. "Oh, it's no trouble, really."

"Oh I don't know." Broge winked. "Climbin' up an' down that path must make your old bones groan."

"My bones are jus' fine, thank ye." Rones harrumphed as he marched out of the cave, wrapped in his cloak. He made sure to cover his face with his hood so that the others wouldn't see him grinning.

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Not far from the lookout cave, the corsairs under the command of the First Mate Scratch, were marching slowly through the rocky terrain.

"Well, so far this is going pretty smoothly." Scratch muttered out loud to himself, shifting his cutlass to his other paw. He glanced up into the dark, rainy sky.

Before they had spilt the crew, Hookarm and Scratch had worked out a signal that they would use when their rats were ready. An archer from Hookarm's group would light a fire arrow and shoot it up into the night sky.

"I sure hope they hurry up," Scratch mumbled as he signaled for his rats to fan out and hide behind large rocks. They were getting close to the caves, and Scratch didn't want to risk them getting spotted by the shrews. At least, not until Hookarm signaled that he was ready.

"Slipgut," Scratch jerked his head over to the right, "Take half a score of rats an' make sure that there's nobeast hidin' up there. Alright?"

The former lookout seemed a little surprised that he had gotten picked to lead the patrol. "Sure, Scratch! What, er… What do ye want me to do with any shrews that we see? Should we kill or capture 'em?"

"Nab 'em if ye can," Scratch replied, "Though, if ye can't, then there'll be no tears shed over a few dead guards that got in the way."

"Ah," the searat pulled his cloak's hood over his head, "Got it."

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"Hey, Flugg, do ye think that ye should 'ave given Rones his sword back afore he left?" Tragg raised an eyebrow. "He might want it back."

"Oh… Whoops. That would've been wise…" Flugg sheepishly scratched the back of his neck. He glanced down at Rones' rapier. "Just give me a moment. I'll be right back. He shouldn't be far."

"Here, I'll come wit' ye," Tragg said, stepping past Broge and Rosebud on his way to the cave exit. He turned back to them and smiled briefly. "We'll be back in a jiff."

Tragg and Flugg barely started their descent when they saw a dark, cloaked figure not far down the trail, slowly making its way across the rocks.

"There he is. Come on, Flugg Slowpaws, I'll race ye," Tragg said as he charged toward the dark figure.

"Ye're on!"

The two young shrews scrambled down the trail, mindful of the rocks.

The cloaked figure spun around as it heard them, and Tragg gasped as he saw the creature's face.

It was a rat.

"What 'ave we 'ere, mates?" Slipgut called out, grinning from ear to ear. "Get 'em, lads."

The rest of the rat scouts sprang forward from where they had been hiding, brandishing their weapons.

Tragg and Flugg took one glance at them and bolted.

"Searats!"

"We're under attack!"

One rat, far more nimble than the others, weaved through the terrain like a snake. He lunged out with his paw and grabbed Tragg by his shoulder, yanking him backwards with a jerk. Flugg, unaware that Tragg had been caught, kept running up towards the cave.

 _This is it_ , Tragg thought to himself as he struggled against the rat's grip, _I'm doomed._

Suddenly, the rat holding him let out a loud yelp and released his hold on the shrew, clutching his head where a thrown rock had hit him.

Rones emerged from the shadows like a wraith. With only his bare paws, he attacked the group of vermin. Body-slamming into one, he caught the corsair by surprise and snatched away the rat's cutlass.

"Tragg, get help! Run!" Rones yelled, pushing the young shrew behind him.

As Slipgut took a step towards them, Rones lunged forward with the cutlass, drawing a line of blood as he nicked the rat's forearm.

Slipgut hissed in pain and backed off a few steps, glancing down at the wound as he did. "Get th' old shrew first!" he growled out to rest of the patrol. "Kill 'im."

The other vermin, not eager to rush forward and risk getting wounded as well, slowly spread out in a semicircle around Rones.

The shrew warrior shot a glance at Tragg. "I said _run_!"

"O-okay." Tragg stammered. "Just hang on Rones! I'll be back wit' th' others."

"Run, little one! An' don't look back!"

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Tragg ran as fast as he could, charging on recklessly. His footpaws pounding the rocky ground like pistons.

"I've got to go get help, I've got to warn the clan!" He panted to himself.

Running faster and faster, he finally reached the caves. His Eyes widened at what he saw, a battle was raging, and it wasn't going well for the shrews.

Once the surviving sentries had heard the fight around the lookout cave, a few had managed to warn the clan before they too were cut down by Muskfur's archers, but with the shrew clan already awake and alert, Hookarm decided to throw caution to the wind and attack with brutal force.

Roughly twenty shrews had fallen, either dead or captured. A few had managed to scale the cliff before the full attack was under way, while the rest who were not so quick found themselves trapped against the cliff. But even so, the shrews would not go without a fight.

"Well so much for getting' help," Tragg muttered to himself. Glanced around desperately, he spotted some of the shrews that had escaped before the vermin had surrounded the camp.

He slid unnoticed into the group of about twenty shrews and made his way toward the sounds of a heated argument.

There were two of them, and it appeared they were arguing over returning to the fight or just running for it.

"They'll be as good as dead if we run now." An elder shrew with one eye declared.

"An' I've got a family in there," Another shrew added gruffly, "What if they get killed or get captured while we sit here hiding?"

"But if we run, we will live tae' fight another day," another shrew with a blue jerkin countered, "And we might even be able tae' free our clan mates if we escape and have enough time tae' to come up wit' a good plan tae' free 'em."

"But by that time any beasts who survive the attack will be on that massive ship heading out to sea, chained tae' a bench an' tuggin' an oar," the one eye shrew retorted.

The other shrew hesitated for a second, then said, "Well maybe we could build some longboats, an' then we could follow them an' maybe sneak em' some weapons."

"An' maybe rocks can float," The one eyed shrew yelled sarcastically.

"What's going on here?"

The group of shrews suddenly froze as they heard a gruff voice behind them.

Tragg glanced around until he found who had spoken. It was none other than Chief Broge himself.

The old one eyed shrew suddenly smiled as he recognized Broge, he said with delight, "Chief, ye're alive! We had all thought ye' had gotten ambushed on the slope, Here, yer' the chief, ye decide, should we try tae' run fer' the hills like cowards or-"

"Or should we try tae' to attack a large crew of rats that will chop us up tae' fish bait when they see us comin'?" The shrew with the blue jerkin interrupted, shooting a glare at the other shrew.

Broge didn't appear to be paying very much attention to the two arguing shrews, instead, he was frantically looking to and fro for his wife.

"Does anybeast know where Eleanor is? Has anybeast seen her?"

Catching the glances that the shrews shot to each other he feared the worst, "Where is she," he roared.

The one eyed shrew said softly, "Eleanor went down fightin' chief, she was protecting the young ones from the corsairs when I saw a big ferret come up from behind 'er, I tried tae' reach 'er chief, honest. But it was tae' far an' I was already fighten' two vermin, I'm sorry chief."

Broge closed his eyes and gripped his sword's handle so hard his knuckles turned white. When he turned toward his shrews they saw that his eyes had turned bloodshot red from grief and blazing fury. Pointing his sword toward the battle he said, his voice as cold as the ice in the dead of winter,

"We fight."


	4. Chapter 3

**SOUTHSWARD**

In the land of Southsward, in a small glade inside a large forest, a vixen named Sellena was searching for herbs. Sellena was a rather young fox, with dark hazel eyes and russet fur. She was carrying a leather satchel and every now and then she would sniff a plant and drop it in her satchel.

"Marigold, Juniper, Yarrow, I've found every herb but Thyme," the vixen muttered to herself.

She kept on searching until she finally saw it: a thick clump of Thyme that had grown near a trickling stream.

"Ah, there it is," she said as she walked toward it. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted the small shape of a little Speedwell flower on the side of the bank. She stopped and turned to look at it as a thought pricked her mind.

Where have I seen that kind of flower recently, she wondered.

Suddenly she remembered: she had seen it in a dream! Her dream about the new Taggerung!

Sellena had learned a long time ago that she was something special. She was a seer. She had grown up like any normal young fox but it wasn't until she had gotten older that she realized that many of the odd dreams she had been having were about things that had happened in the past, the present, or the future.

Her dreams about future events were sometimes muddled and confusing, and usually, she couldn't remember the dream until whatever she had dreamed about had already passed. But sometimes her memory could be triggered by a sign. Like in this case, the sign was a specific flower she had seen in her dream.

She grabbed her soothsaying items from her satchel and threw them on the hard ground, watching carefully how they fell, a few bones, a couple twigs, and some seashells fell in a jumbled heap together.

The memory of her dream slowly came back to her. She saw a glimpse of a great and terrible war that would cover the lands, and she also saw mighty kingdoms rise and fall. There would be much death and destruction. But she also felt a glimmer of hope when she saw the brave and noble creatures that marched to fight the powerful evil.

Suddenly the feeling of hope died as she saw the phantom.

She couldn't see what kind of species the phantom was, but it was almost more terrifying not knowing. The phantom suddenly started growing, as if it thrived on the chaos surrounding it, growing larger and larger until it was far bigger than everything else.

Then quite suddenly, it stopped, as if it was scared of something. Then she sensed, but couldn't see, the Taggerung.

Once again she couldn't quite see what kind of animal the Taggerung was, but she could sense a birthmark in the shape of a Speedwell flower on its left paw .

The Taggerung seemed to walk forward, toward the massive phantom, and as it walked closer, the phantom got smaller and smaller, and the Taggerung got bigger and bigger until they were both the same size.

The memory of her dream stopped as suddenly as it had come.

Gathering her satchel as fast she could, her herb hunt all but forgotten, Sellena ran as fast as she could, she had to tell her master what she had seen - she had to tell him about the new prophecy!

000000000000000

 **MOLEGUARD**

Far in the eastern corners of the mighty land of Southsward, stood the great fortress Moleguard. With its deep moat surrounding its mighty walls, the great watchtowers positioned on each of the castle's four corners were like immovable sentries made of stone. Moleguard looked like a fortress that would not fall easily to an attack or siege.

In the center of its courtyard, a large building eight stories high stood proudly, its grey brick walls covered in moss and ivy.

Inside the fortress' throne room, Sellena the seer awaited for an audience with the Grey Warlord.

Instead of wearing bone bracelets, or necklaces made of seashells like many fake seers wore Sellena only wore a plain light green dress with a dark grey jacket. With her satchel of healing herbs at her side she stood, waiting patiently for her master to summon her.

Her dark hazel eyes shot to the throne room door as it slowly opened.

A tall mouse poked his head through the door long enough to announce, "His majesty is ready to see you now.

Sellena walked into the throne room quietly, but confidently up to the large creature sitting majestically on the stone throne.

The creature was about the same size as a badger. He was covered from top to bottom with shining armor, and carried a massive spear. The Grey Warlord looked altogether fearsome. His green eyes seemed to bore through the vixen.

Even so, Sellena stood before him calm and confident.

"You said you wanted to talk to me about a new prophecy that you have seen?" the Warlord asked, his face expressionless.

"Yes, one of great importance." The vixen's eyes darted to the two warrior moles that stood on either side of the throne.

"Guards, leave us," the Warlord ordered.

Bowing respectfully to their king, the moles departed.

"Please, continue," the Warlord prompted.

Sellena leaned forward with barely concealed excitement. "I was in the woods looking for thyme, when suddenly I had a vision," Sellena suddenly lowered her voice to a whisper, "A Taggerung has come of age."

The Warlord looked slightly puzzled. "Forgive me for my ignorance but what exactly is a Taggerung."

Sellena closed her eyes and slowly chanted,

"Who makes the mighty seem like the least?

Who can outfight the strongest beast?

Whose tracking skills cannot be beat?

Who can run for miles inside the heat?

Who is as silent as the evening breeze?

Who can blend in perfectly with the darkest trees?

The Taggerung."

Opening her eyes she glanced at the Warlord. "This Taggerung will be a mighty warrior like all the other Taggerungs but I also think this one will also have the gift of a seer, one who will rise in power over his peers," here she paused, then she added, "The creature might even be better at foretelling the future then I am."

The Warlord raised an eyebrow. "Now that would be interesting to see. Where can I find this Taggerung?"

"I think I sensed its presence in the northern Mossflower region," Sellena replied, "But I can't be certain."

"My grasp does not extend so far to the north. Perhaps it's time to change that. Tell me, what kind of creature is this Taggerung?" the Grey Warlord asked.

"If you mean what kind of species it is, then your guess is as good as mine. All I know is that the creature has the birthmark of a speedwell flower on their left paw."

"Hmm, and how old is this Taggerung?" he asked. "A full-grown beast? A child? A babe?"

Sellena paused. "You see, that's what makes it so puzzling. The creature is a seer so its powers shield it from me. But as its powers grow, it'll be harder for the Taggerung to hide from other seers that are powerful enough to sense his power."

The Warlord took a moment to digest this new information. "Is there anything else I should know?"

"I have told you all."

"Hmm. Then I guess you're dismissed until further notice." The Grey Warlord dipped his head in a nod.

Sellena bowed. As she turned to leave, the larger creature held up a paw.

"Oh. On your way out, if you see Ambassador Grank, tell him I want him to come to me immediately."

"As you wish, sire."

After Sellena had left, the Grey Warlord got up from his throne and paced the throne room, pausing only to look at some charts and maps that were spread out on a table. He didn't stop his pacing until he heard the throne room door open slowly and the creature that he had summoned came in.

He glanced at the creature before him. Ambassador Grank was a brown furred hamster. He was dressed in golden colored robe, and the Warlord could see the handle of an axe poking up from behind the hamster's shoulder. Grank was always armed and prepared for anything, even if he was in a relatively safe place. It was one of the reasons why he had risen in rank. That, and his diplomatic skills.

"Ambassador Grank," the Warlord said, "I've got a job for you."

00000000000000

 **THE NORTH COAST**

The twenty shrews under Broge's command crept silently and carefully toward the sounds of the fighting taking place between the searats and the surviving shrews who had been in the camp when the attack had started.

In the front of the group, Broge turned around to address his troops. "If any o' ye who have family that've already escaped wish tae stay, then I'll not think less o' ye if ye do so. But I'm the leader o' the clan, so it's my duty tae stay 'n' fight until I'm sure that every shrew is free. But ye all have no such obligation. The only obligation you have is tae your own conscience. If ye feel that ye should leave while ye can, then I'll not stop ye."

The shrews glanced at each other, then the one eyed shrew spoke up, "We're with ye, Chief.

"Aye!"

"We're with ye tae the end, Chief!" Broge's chest swelled with pride. His clan had already suffered so much and yet they were still willing to risk losing everything to do what was right.

"Alright, this is the plan. Our enemy has at least a hundred an' a half beasts under his command, so that means we're outnumbered. So we'll jus' have tae be smarter than 'em. First, we'll unite our force with the shrews who are fightin' by th' cliffs, and try to break free. Second, if enough of us make it out alive, we'll return an' ambush the searats when they least expect it. Hopefully we'll be able tae free any shrews who got captured, but we have tae focus on getting ourselves free first. Any questions?"

Broge scanned the small crowd to see if there were any objections. Finding none, he continued, "Ye there, what's your name?" he asked as he pointed to the one eyed shrew who had been the first to speak up.

"Andrew, Chief," the shrew replied.

"Well then, Andrew, are ye any good wit' a sling?"

Andrew nodded. "Aye. What do ye need me tae do?"

"I want ye tae take all the other good slingers that we've got. Follow us when we charge an' make it rain rocks on those vermin."

"We'll try our best, Chief!" Andrew saluted.

Broge signaled to the shrews by pointing his rapier toward the direction of the fighting. As the shrews marched out, a thought flitted briefly in Broge's mind, _What if you're leading these shrews to their deaths?_

Shaking the thought away from him like an irritating cobweb, Broge silently whispered under his breath, "I must do this! If we fail now, then we'll be dooming the rest o' the clan tae slavery or worse." He glanced up into the dark night sky. "I'll free 'em, Eleanor. I'll make sure that ye didn't die in vain." Broge's eyes teared as he thought of the loving shrew whose life had been cut short by the evil creatures who, at this very moment, were killing or enslaving more of his clan. Gritting his teeth, he whispered to the heavens, "I'll free 'em, and woe tae the beasts who stand in my way."

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Hookarm and Scratch were watching the battle of the cliffs from the outskirts when Hookarm scoffed, "Well ain't this jus' lovely. I get stuck with all the slaves that are either too young or too old, an' the creatures who would make fine strong slaves are fightin' like madbeasts. Ye'd think they'd want us t' kill 'em all down t' the last beast. They've spat on us every time we ask fer their surrender, an' they've already killed or wounded more of my crew then I can count."

Scratch glanced over to Hookarm with a raised eyebrow. "Well, you know woodlanders. They'd rather die than let themselves have the honor of being a happy, hard workin' slave." He chuckled. "Well, maybe not very happy, but at least they'd be hard workin'."

They both paused to stare at the battle again when Scratch asked, "Should we send another messenger to ask those shrews if they want to surrender again?"

Hookarm thought for a moment. "No. Besides I don't think we could coax another rat to take the message after what happened to that last rat, he's probably still knocked out cold from that sling stone."

"Well this is jus' too embarrassing to watch," Hookarm said after a while, glancing down at the fighting. "I think it's about time we show 'em how it's done, eh Scratch?"

Scratch drew his cutlass and grinned. "Aye, Cap'n."

00000000000000

The searats by the cliff were so busy fighting the last of the shrews, who had holed themselves in the caves, that they almost didn't notice Broge's group until the last moment.

"Ey, those ain't searats," a rat managed to say before his skull was smashed by a sling stone.

"FREEEEEEEEEDOM," the clan shrews shouted as they plowed into the vermin ranks, slashing and hacking at anything or anybeast who stood in their way. Even though the rats had numbers on their side, they were taken completely by surprise by the savage attack. A few of the more fainthearted of the rats thought that they were being attacked by a much larger force and bolted away from the fighting. But many of the corsairs were seasoned killers and they stood their ground like an immovable shield wall.

Near the center of the battle, Tragg was fighting for his life. He had lost sight of Broge during the charge and now he was fighting a small but ferocious rat. They parried and thrusted with their weapons, each seeking for an opening in the other's defence.

Tragg felt his blows getting weaker and weaker as his sword started to feel heavier and heavier. This was his first time in a real battle, and his muscles weren't hardened enough to keep going. He glanced around desperately, searching the battlefield for anything he could use to his advantage.

The rat started to get cocky as he noticed the fear in Tragg's eyes.

"I'm gonna enjoy feedin' ye bit by bit to the fishes, Shrew," the rat gloated as he swiped at Tragg.

Tragg gritted his teeth. "Shut yer mouth, Vermin," he snarled. Tragg managed to land a lucky blow on the searat's unprotected tail, slicing the tip off.

"Yeow!" The rat screamed, his eyes filled with rage. "I'll kill ye fer that, Shrew."

They stabbed and slashed at each other in earnest.

Tragg stabbed at the rat with a particularly mighty thrust. As the rat dodged out of the way, Tragg momentarily lost his balance. The rat seized his chance and, with an expert swing of his cutlass, he twisted the rapier out of the young shrew's paw.

As the Tragg fell to the ground, the searat slowly raised his weapon over his head, savoring his victory. "You'll die now, Shrew."

Tragg barely managed to roll out of the way as the rat's cutlass hit the ground where his head had been a second ago. Rolling to the side, he grabbed a bloody dagger from the paw of a nearby dead corsair and, leaping up, plunged it into his attacker's neck.

The rat gurgled as he fell down, clutching his wound with his paw.

Tragg looked with shock at the creature he had just killed. He slowly reached down and grabbed the dead beast's cutlass from his paw. He felt like there was a cold rock in the pit of his stomach.

He turned just in time to block a swing from a ferret that was coming at him from behind.

The ferret took a step back as his blade hit Tragg's. The vermin was about to lunge forward again when he suddenly gasped out with pain and he stared down to the rapier blade that appeared to grow from his chest. The ferret's body was shoved aside and Tragg came face to face with his rescuer: Chief Broge.

"What are ye doing here," Broge yelled to his son as he turned to slice a corsair in the stomach.

"I want tae help!" Tragg replied.

"A battle is no place for a young 'un," Broge said, "Now get out o' here!"

"But I want tae avenge Ma," Tragg replied. His eyes threatened to tear up. "I want tae kill those vermin for what they did! She never hurt a beast in her life!"

Broge was silent for a moment and Tragg could see tears running down his father's face.

"Now son," Broge said in a gruff voice, "I lost Eleanor, I can't lose ye too."

"But…" Tragg began, but his father interrupted him.

"No buts, Tragg. Find your sister. Protect her. If I don't make it out alive, lead the others tae a safe place. It's your duty, Son."

"But what about ye, Dad?" Tragg asked. "I can't just leave ye!"

"Don't worry about me. Protect what's left of our family, and maybe after this madness we can all be together again. Now go!" he yelled, seeing a new wave of rats approaching. "Go!"

Tragg blinked back tears as he turned away and ran.

He dodged past groups of fighting creatures, their shapes looming out in the darkness. The fighting was less thick where Tragg was, but that wasn't exactly saying much. His bloodshot red eyes scanned the creatures around him as he looked for any sign of Flugg or Rosebud.

He didn't notice a large vermin coming up behind him until he felt the thick end of a heavy spear shaft smash onto the back of his head. He fell to the ground with a cry, and the vermin ran past him, looking for a next opponent.

Tragg tried to move, but his arms felt too heavy to lift and he sank back down onto the ground. As Tragg's vision blurred, he saw a very familiar shrew running up to him.

"Rones?" Tragg murmured as everything turned black.


	5. Chapter 4

**MOSSFLOWER**

Extract from the records of Redwall:

 _I remember when I first told my father that I wanted to be the Abbey Recorder. He had replied, "Oh, I don't know if you'll want to be a recorder for long, you're just too fidgety." Now, all these seasons later I completely agree with him, not that I don't love my job, goodness no. It's just every now and then I'll try to write and I suddenly have the irresistible urge to go outside and run around like our abbey young ones. Would you just listen to me, here I am, rambling on about how distracted I am. If only old brother Paul could see me now._

 _Now where was I? Oh yes, It has been many generations since Razzid Wearet attacked our peaceful abbey, and life is still going on as normal. Abbot Daniel is the current abbot of Redwall, and the Abbey has flourished under his leadership. Our gardens have blessed us with a bountiful harvest and the abbey young ones are strong and healthy. Oh, I almost forgot to mention, it's Father Daniel's third anniversary as Abbot of Redwall! We're planning a surprise feast for him. So now I must put down my pen and make my way over to the Great hall before Daniel finds out about the surprise._

 _Brother Michael, Recorder of Redwall Abbey._

00000000000000

Redwall Abbey's walls were rosy pink as the sun set on the western horizon. Abbot Daniel and his good friend, Skipper Wildstream, chieftain of the Mossflower otters, were sitting on the Abbey's west wall, watching the sunset.

"You ready to go get somethin' to eat, Father Abbot?" Skipper asked as his belly started to rumble from hunger.

"Let's just wait here a minute. After that long walk around the Abbey grounds I feel positively worn out." The old abbot of Redwall replied.

"You sure it's not that plump belly of yers makin' it hard to take a little stroll every now 'n' then", is it?" The otter winked playfully.

Abbot Daniel glanced up to the otter, trying his best not to chuckle as he spoke with mock anger, "Well you're one to talk, look at you! You're almost twice my size, and you're insinuating that I've a hefty stomach? Such audacity!"

Skipper thumped his chest as he said proudly, "Yup, I'm twice as big but it's all pure muscle, me matey."

Daniel prodded Skipper with his walking stick. "Ha! If you're made of pure muscle then I'm made of solid gold."

The two friends laughed as they slowly made their way to dinner.

As they passed the gatehouse they heard the sounds of somebeast knocking on the abbey gate, followed by Brother Michael's voice. "I hear ye, I'm coming. Honestly the impatience of creatures these days."

Daniel watched as the squirrel recorder poked his head over the wall to peer down at the creatures who had knocked on the abbey gates.

"Is everything alright up there, Michael?" Daniel called up toward the battlements.

"Oh, Abbot Daniel! Just the creature I wanted to see!" Michael said, "There are two beasts down on the path asking to be let in."

"Do they look like friends, or foes?" Skipper asked.

"Why don't you come up here an' see for yourself?" Michael yelled down to the otter and mouse.

After a brief look at each other, the two creatures walked up the flight of stairs that led to the parapets. Then, leaning over the wall, they looked down at the two travelers who stood on the dusty path.

Both of the creatures were hamsters. One carried a large ax and had a face covered in scars. The other held a long spear and wore a cloak that had obviously seen better days.

"Are ye friends or foes?" Skipper called down to the two beasts.

"We're friends to all who fight and strive for peace!" The hamster with the scarred face replied.

After a whispered conference on the wall top, Skipper once again yelled down, "If yer friends, then would ye mind provin' it to us by surrendering yer weapons?"

The two golden furred hamsters glanced at each other. Then the one with the worn out cloak slowly called up, "Aye, we'll surrender our weapons to ye!"

"Should I open the gate, Father Abbot?" the otter asked.

After a bit of thoughtful contemplation Daniel replied, "Yes I think that would be alright. After all, there are only two of them, and they appear to be honest beasts, even if they seem like they've seen their fair share of fights and scuffles."

The two travelers waited patiently as Skipper ran down the steps to the abbey gate.

The gate opened slowly to reveal the jolly face of the otter chieftain.

"Welcome to Redwall Abbey, mateys," The otter said cheerfully.

As the two travelers handed over their weapons to the large otter, Daniel and Michael came down from the wall top.

"Good evening, allow me to introduce myself, I'm Father Daniel, and this is Michael, the abbey recorder."

"Pleased to meet you I'm sure." The hamster with the scarred up face replied, "My name is Scarnose, and my companion's name is Goldentail. We're travelers from the land of Southsward. We were hoping that you wouldn't mind givin' us a place to sleep."

"Oh of course, why, we were just on our way to dinner, care to join us?" Daniel asked.

Scarnose chuckled, "Who wouldn't want to eat dinner at the famous abbey of Redwall!? I hear that the food here is so delicious that once you taste it, you'll never want to eat any other kind of food again."

"I think our head cook, Friar Peter, will be most happy to hear that his cooking is so highly regarded," Daniel said with a smile.

"I bet if you tell Friar Peter that his cooking is known far and wide, he'll give you both second helpings." Michael chipped in.

"I think I'm gonna like this Friar Peter." Scarnose replied with a chuckle.

Skipper walked back from the gatehouse where he had just finished securing the weapons. Turning to the abbot he asked, "Should we go t' dinner? I'm famished!"

"Yes, I agree." Turning toward Redwall's new guests Daniel asked, "Are you ready?"

Goldentail grinned, "I'm always ready for food. Lead on your Abbotship."

The group of creatures walked slowly toward the abbey that stood out in the fading evening light.

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A feast at Redwall Abbey was something that the abbey dwellers didn't take lightly. The creatures who were fortunate enough to call Redwall their home were always impressed at whatever concoction that the head cook, Friar Peter would make. And they were not disappointed tonight.

A massive cooked grayling commanded the center of most of the beast's attention, but it was certainly not the only food that was gazed at longingly. There were hot scones, raspberry pies, nut bread, strawberry cakes, plum pudding, hotroot soup for the otters, deeper 'n' ever pie for the moles, many different types of cheeses for the mice, and candied chestnuts for the squirrels.

Friendly banter went back and forth as the creatures waiting for the abbot stared at the food with their mouths watering.

"Ooh, would ye look at that nut bread. If it tastes half as good as it smells then I'm gonna eat a whole loaf myself." A squirrel said.

"Well soil moi whiskers, that deeper 'n' ever pie surpintly looks good." A mole said, his eyes gleaming as he stared at the wondrous food.

A young squirrel named Sam Oaktail nudged his companion, a young mouse called Gerardo.

"I haven't seen Sebias this evening, is he sick?" Sam asked.

"I think he's still in trouble for that raspberry pie incident." Gerardo replied.

"So that explains where he's been for the last few hours." The squirrel suddenly chuckled, "You've gotta admit, that was pretty funny when Sebias put hotroot in the raspberry pie that was meant for Skipper, but ended up going to Mother Mira. I've never seen that badger's eyes go so big!"

Laughing, the two friends didn't notice the large badger behind them until they heard her snort.

"Enjoying ourselves are we?" she asked, raising her eyebrow.

The two young beasts spun around so fast it made their heads spin.

"Oh yes, Mother Mira." Sam and Gerardo both said nervously.

The badger grunted, trying her best to hide a smile, then went to the table where the Dibbuns (the abbey young ones) were sitting.

Gerardo breathed a sigh of relief, "Well that was close."

They both were talking when suddenly Sam pointed to the Great Hall's entrance. "There's the Abbot! And it looks like we've got company."

As abbot Daniel entered, the crowd of creatures let out a mighty cheer.

"What…what is this?" the abbot asked.

Skipper walked up to the bewildered abbot "Don't you remember Father Abbot. Exactly three seasons ago to this day you were made the abbot of Redwall Abbey. This is just a little feast to show our appreciation, and to say good job an' thanks fer puttin' up with us so far."

Daniel wagged a paw at the large otter, "So you knew about this the whole time, that's why you decided that we should take a long walk around the abbey grounds."

Turning to his guests, Daniel said, "I guess you'll have the good fortune of seeing Friar Peter's cooking at its finest."

And indeed it was. After the abbot had said the grace all the creatures dug in at will. If Friar Peter was known for his good food then Boglo Spikeback the cellarhog was known for his amazing drinks. There was apple cider, October ale, honey cordial, blueberry wine, and strawberry fizz (which was very popular with the Dibbuns and the other youngsters), as well as many other delicious drinks.

The two friends, Sam and Gerardo were both eating a massive strawberry pie when a young male otter scooted up beside them, "How's the food."

Sam glanced up from his plate just long enough to ask, "Hey Sebias, did you get in trouble again?"

Sebias leaned forward and grabbed a slice of the pie."Ouch! That's kinda hot. Yes, I got in trouble again. Mother Mira wasn't very amused when she tasted the hotroot pie that I meant to give to Skipper."

Gerardo chuckled, "What did she do?"

Sebias glanced down at his hands, "Well let's just say that I don't want to see another dirty dish again in my life! But it wasn't that bad I guess. Mother Mira came down after I washed half of the dishes and told me I could stop and get ready for the feast."

"So I guess you didn't see the guests then, did you?" Sam asked.

Sebias shot him a puzzled look, "What guests?"

"We got two visitors from some place called Southsward or something. But what's really interesting is that they don't look like any manner of beast I've ever seen. I think they call themselves hamsters," Gerardo replied.

"Hamsters?" Sebias said in disbelief, "Redwall hasn't seen hamsters since the time of Trisscar the warrior!"

"Apparently there's a lot of hamsters where they came from." Gerardo replied.

"I wonder what they're here for?" Sebias asked.

"No one knows yet, Father Abbot said that they would discuss things with our guests once the celebrations die down." Gerardo said as he attacked a bowl of plum pudding with a spoon.

"Hey don't eat all the food." Sebias chuckled as he watched Gerardo and Sam dig in.

The creatures of Redwall feasted away late into the night. None of them were aware of the fact that only a few days march away from the abbey a large group of creatures were approaching.


	6. Chapter 5

**REDWALL ABBEY**

The feast had finally started to die down in the Great Hall. As the Dibbuns were rounded up and sent to bed, the cooks and all the other beasts who had the unfortunate job of having to clear the tables, set to the task of cleaning up the remains of the feast.

Down in Cavern Hole, Abbot Daniel called a meeting with a few of the abbey leaders, Foremole, leader of the abbey moles, Michael the recorder, Skipper of otters, and the two hamsters, Scarnose and Goldentail.

"Does anyone want any tea or something?" Friar Peter asked the assembled creatures.

"Why thank you, Friar Peter. A nice herb tea would be amazing right now," Daniel replied.

Glancing around to the other creatures, Friar Peter asked, "Anyone else want a drink?"

As Friar Peter had left to fetch the drinks, Daniel rose from the chair he had been sitting on and asked the two hamsters, "So, do you have any tales from your homeland or of your travels that you wouldn't mind telling us? We Redwallers love a good tale every now and then."

Scarnose smiled. "Yes, and it seems that Redwall has been in the middle of most of the great tales and legends I've ever heard, so you've probably already heard of most of them."

Michael leaned forward as he asked the hamster, "So you're from Southsward, eh? Tell me, how has Castle Floret and all the other lands in Southsward been after Redwall freed them from the Foxwolf?"

"Well you're certainly very good at your abbey's history, Brother Michael." Scarnose chuckled. "I was never any good at history myself. But let me see, the current ruler of Castle Floret is a squirrel named King Brent, a rather stubborn beast, but he can sure still swing his ax with the best of them."

"But what we really wanted to warn you about," the hamster continued, "Is that we aren't the only travelers that you can expect dropping by your abbey."

Skipper stiffened at Scarnose's words. "Are they an army of vermin or some robber band?"

Scarnose shook his head. "No. In fact, Goldentail and I will probably know most of the beasts who'll be travelin' here."

Goldentail nodded in agreement. "Aye. Some of them might even be family."

"But then why did you say that you were warning us, when the beasts are apparently friendly?" Daniel asked, clearly puzzled.

"Well, we were warning you because it'll be a large group of creatures. You might want to prepare beds and food for them in case you don't have enough. That is, if you're welcome to have them stay at all."

"Why do ye say that?" Skipper asked.

Scarnose paused as if he was pondering how much information he should reveal. "If you don't mind, I told them that I wouldn't say what their purpose was until they got here," he said simply.

"Well I for one am very interested to meet these creatures," Abbot Daniel said.

"Are there going to be any more hamsters in the group?" Michael asked.

Scarnose shot a look over to Goldentail, who so far had barely said a word since they had entered the abbey.

When Goldentail nodded his head in answer to the unspoken question, Scarnose replied to Michael, "Yes, quite a few of them will be hamsters. Why do you ask?"

"As Abbey Recorder it's my job to record unusual events that take place in Mossflower. And a visit from the kingdom of Southsward would definitely qualify for an unusual event."

As they spoke, Friar Peter walked in with a tray of mugs, passing them out among the seated beasts.

"This is some very good tea, Peter," the abbot commented politely as he sipped his herb tea.

"Oh, it was nothin'." The Friar blushed. "It was just a little somethin' that I whipped up."

The group sat sipping their tea in comfortable silence.

As Skipper finished his mug he stood up and gave a loud yawn. "Well, I'm off to bed. Me an' my crew are gonna go fishing for shrimp in the River Moss tomorrow, so I'd better get some rest."

"Burr aye, that's sounds loik a gudd plan," Foremole agreed in his thick mole accent, "Oi can barely keep moi eyes open moiself."

Abbot Daniel looked over toward the hamsters. "I guess we still need to find beds for you both. Brother Michael, could you please take our guests and find rooms for them?"

"Sure, Father Abbot," the squirrel replied. "Come on you two. Follow me."

As Abbot Daniel watched Brother Michael lead the hamsters away, he thought to himself, _I wonder if there's something those two hamsters aren't telling us._ Shrugging his weary shoulders, the mouse walked up the flight of stairs that led to his bedroom to get a good night's rest.

00000000000000

 **NORTHLANDS**

Tragg's eyes gradually flickered open. He groaned as he felt pain shooting through his head like a bolt of lightning.

"Ahh...where am I?" Tragg wondered to himself out loud.

"You're all right, Tragg. It's okay, here drink this." The soothing voice of his friend Flugg calmed him as he reached for the cup that he held out to him.

He wrinkled his nose at the taste. "What is this, Flugg?" he asked.

"It's some medicine that your sister made from herbs that Rones found. It should calm you," he replied.

"What time is it?" he asked as he drank the last of the medicine.

"Around midnight," Flugg answered.

Tragg slowly sat up to see where they were.

They were sitting in a wooded glade. A little fire was lit in the middle of the makeshift camp and he could just make out the sleeping shape of Rosebud by the campfire.

"Ah. So ye're awake at last," a gruff voice said.

Tragg turned to Rones standing behind him. The older shrew's head was covered with bandages but Tragg could just make out the dark wound that was caked with dried blood.

Rones smiled as he saw Tragg's eyes dart to his head wound. "Looks like ye an' me both got pretty decent bumps on the 'ead from that battle, eh laddie," he commented with a smile.

Tragg suddenly gasped as memories of the battle hit him like a tidal wave. Blood, screaming, killing, dead beasts. So many dead beasts. Shaking his head to and fro, he tried to clear his mind of the awful memories.

"Did… did any of the others survive?" Tragg asked. He wasn't entirely sure if he wanted to know the answer.

Rones sadly shook his head. "We're the only ones who escaped. When I was ambushed on the slopes I thought for sure that I was a goner, but fortunately, I was only stunned with a blow tae the back o' me noggin. After I cleared my head, I got up and followed the sounds of the battle.

Rones paused. He could barely continue. "Our clan was destroyed. The only survivors that I could see were bunched together in a group an' were fightin' their way toward the hidden trail that led to the top of the cliffs. I charged down to join them, an' I found ye knocked unconscious."

Tragg suddenly had a terrible thought. "Where…where is Da?" he asked Rones suddenly. His heart missed a beat as Flugg turned his face away and he saw Rones' eyes looking at him with a deep sadness.

"I'm sorry, Tragg," Rones said quietly.

All the color seemed to drain out of the world as Tragg heard these awful words.

"Noooo!" he cried. "I don't believe it! I won't believe it!"

He barely felt or heard them as they tried to comfort him. All he could hear was Broge's voice repeating over and over in his head. _"Maybe after this madness we can all be together again."_

He cried until he could cry no longer. At last he calmed himself enough to ask Rones, "H-how did he die?"

Rones looked sorrowfully at the young shrew. "After I found ye in the battlefield I carried ye to the outskirts of the battle where I ran into Broge. He told me tae take ye an' yer sister up the secret trail an' try tae escape wit' ye both. At first, I wouldn't hear of it, I told him I would stand beside him until the shore ran red wit' vermin blood. But he pleaded wit' me as chief an' brother an' told me it was my duty tae keep ye both safe."

Rones paused to clear his throat and to brush tears from his eyes, "So I listened tae him an' took Rosebud, Flugg, an' ye tae safety. When I looked back I saw Broge fightin' tooth an' nail tae keep the searats from followin' us, an' I watched as he fell under a mob of vermin. There was nothing I could've done."

Tragg was silent, when he spoke his voice sounded husky, "Does Rosebud know?"

Flugg nodded. "Aye, she was there when Rones told me, she has been trying to distract herself by keeping busy, but we can tell she's still grieving." Flugg gave his friend a comforting pat on the shoulder. "If ye need me fer anything jus' let me know. Alright?"

Tragg silently curled up into a ball, then tried to catch what sleep he could before the sun rose on the horizon.

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Tragg awoke to the sound of sparrows trilling their morning songs. He grumbled and turned onto his side. The young shrew had been tossing and turning most of the night from grief and from nightmares of the battle.

Tragg opened his eyes and glanced around at his surroundings. He noticed that there was an obvious sorrowful gloom hanging over the camp.

Rones was leaning with his back against a tree, talking with a downcast Flugg. Rosebud was cooking pancakes over the campfire. Every now and then, she'd brush a paw across her eyes.

Seeing that Tragg was awake, Rosebud set the pan down and went over to his side. "How do ye feel, Tragg," she asked, indicating his injury.

"I'm fine I guess. I couldn't sleep though." Tragg sat up and looked his twin in the eye. "How...how are ye feelin', Rosebud?"

"I'm doing… alright. At least, as well as possible considering the circumstances. I'm cooking some pancakes. Do ye want tae help?"

Tragg inwardly shook his head. His sister never failed to amaze him. Even though she was obviously still grieving inwardly, she was doing her best to set aside her own broken-heartened-ness, and trying to keep strong for his sake.

"Aye." He stood up. "I'll help. Tell me what tae do." Tragg normally hated cooking, he found it boring, but this time he was going to make an exception. They would need each other's support if they were ever going to get through this.

"Thanks, Tragg." Rosebud smiled. "Let's get started then."

Together, they prepared a meal of blueberry pancakes. Some of them were a tad burnt, due to Tragg's inexperience at cooking, but Rosebud had thanked him regardless. They called the other two shrews over.

As they were eating, Tragg broke the silence with a question.

"Do we know if there are any other survivors?"

The white furred shrew shook his head. "I went back earlier this morning tae investigate, an' found no sign o' anybeast else. The rats had already left, after burning all the dead bodies in a pyre." He spat. "The vermin. Wouldn't even give our dead a proper burial."

"So what are we going tae do now?" Flugg asked, nibbling on a piece of pancake.

"Wit' no clan tae protect us, an' since we don't know if the vermin raiders will come back or not, I've decided that we move on somewhere south. It's warmer down there, I hear, and there are less vermin."

"What about Redwall Abbey?" Tragg asked. "Could we go there?"

"Hmm. I don't see why not." Rones nodded. "Sounds good tae me."

"Redwall Abbey?" Flugg scratched his headfur. "That's an actual place? Huh. I always thought it was jus' a legend."

"No, laddie, it's real. If half of the legends o' it are true, then I'm sure that we'd be safe there. Now, let's get packed. We should be off."

After they had cleaned up the remains of their meal, the shrews began packing their equipment for the journey ahead.

"Where did all the supplies an' vittles come from?" Tragg asked as he folded his blanket and dropped it in a nearby sack.

Flugg dumped water on the campfire. "Rones found them in the back of one of the caves I think. The searats must've missed it in the dark."

After they had packed their things, Rones gave the order.

"Alright, let's be off."

As the group followed the older shrew through the dark forest, none of them noticed the pair of eyes that watched them from the shadows of the trees.


	7. Chapter 6

**TERRAMORT**

Far across the Western Sea, the isle of Terramort lay basking in the warm sun. The massive island was covered with dark pine trees and rocky outcrops. Long known as a place for evil to grow and fester, the island's eastern harbor was filled with many ships that were owned by pirates, raiders, corsairs, and searats.

On the southern part of the island, Fort Bloodgard stood tall and grim, its dark walls towering over the surrounding trees and rocky crags. The fortress was fairly new, built by a massive army of slaves that the searats had captured over many seasons worth of raids.

Inside the fort's main hall, King Bloodfur was having a feast in his newborn son's honor. The infamous searat king was all but a legend among the corsair world. The large brown rat wore a red tunic and cloak. He was covered from head to toe with jewels and red gems. He gazed out to the creatures feasting before him. Fort Bloodgard was packed with pirates and searats who had never seen the fort from the inside before, and would cautiously explore the vast hall when they thought the searat king wasn't looking.

"It looks like my guests are enjoyin' the feast, eh Blue-Eyes." Bloodfur commented to his advisor as he fingered with his large red axe.

"Yes, I do believe they somewhat appreciate your generosity." The weasel replied. Blue-Eyes was a tall creature, and wore dark clothes. Blue-eye also had the gift of an education, and made sure everybeast knew it by never slurring his words like other corsairs, and speaking with long words and sentences.

Blue-Eyes pointed to a tall stoat as he stated, "Captain Slashblade doesn't appear to be enjoying himself as much as he should be."

King Bloodfur sighed. Slashblade was an exceptionally good sword master and a popular sea captain, though he also was well known as an infamous troublemaker and rabble rouser.

The searat king gave a loud burp as he swigged down a cup of seaweed grog. "Well, Slashblade had better keep his nose where it belongs if he knows what's good fer him." He said simply.

"Do you think he knows that you killed his brother Duskvur in his absence?"

Bloodfur waved a dismissive paw. "I doubt that he'll even bring the matter up. After all, it's not like Slashblade even liked his brother that much anyway."

"He might bring up the subject if he wanted to challenge you for kingship."

Bloodfur continued eating. "I doubt he'll try anything at my firstborn son's birthday feast."

Blue-Eyes shot a glanced toward Slashblade before he whispered into Bloodfur's ear, "Shall I make sure he doesn't trouble your majesty?"

Bloodfur waved a paw, "Oh, don't bother. If tha' arrogant stoat thinks he kin make a fool out of me in my own castle, then he kin go jump off a cliff."

"I think he'd better go jump off a cliff then, because he's stomping his way over here now, and he doesn't look too pleased."

Bloodfur sat up stiffly as he watched the corsair captain approach.

Putting on a fake mask of friendliness, Bloodfur asked with as much diplomacy as he could muster. "Well, Slashblade, me matey. How're ye doing?"

"Bloodfur, we need to talk." Slashblade replied.

Bloodfur noticed how the stoat didn't even bother using his title when he addressed him, but kept the casual look on his face. "What do we have to talk about?" he asked, though he could guess the answer.

"You know darn well what!" Slashblade growled. Then he yelled in a loud voice, "You killed my brother Duskvur, an' I want revenge!"

Every creature in the hall suddenly stopped talking and feasting, and gazed in silence at the two arguing beasts.

"Your brother was caught stealing from the royal treasury, I did to him what I would 'ave done te any other beast." Bloodfur replied as calmly as he could.

"You didn't even give him a trial!" the stoat accused. Unsheathing his cutlass he roared for all to hear, "I challenge you, King Bloodfur, to a fight to the death."

The searats gazed toward their king, waiting to see how he would answer the corsair's challenge.

"You don't have to accept his challenge, your majesty." Blue-Eyes whispered into the king's ear.

"It's alright, Blue-Eyes." Bloodfur replied, then he suddenly grinned. "Besides, if that slimeball thinks he kin kill me, then I'd think I should enlighten 'im. He turned toward Slashblade. "Why is it that every time a young, cocky captain gets a little popularity, he decides to try an' bite more than he kin chew, eh?"

"If yer done trying to sound all wise 'n' mighty, would ye mind getting' yer slobberin' hide off yer chair an' fight!" Sharpblade spat in reply.

The assembly of vermin glanced nervously at each other. Slashblade had taken it too far. There was no turning back now for either of them.

Bloodfur gritted his teeth as he grabbed his red axe, "Very well, let's see what yer made of, pipsqueek."

The vermin crews made a large circle around the two beasts as they both got ready for their fight.

Slashblade was armed with a small shield and his cutlass. He grinned at Bloodfur who was only armed with his red axe. "I'll feed your dead carcass to the fishes when I'm done wit' yew." He declared.

Bloodfur's face remained stony silent as he calmly waited for the signal to begin.

Blue-Eyes walked in between the two challengers and yelled aloud. "Alright, now nobeast is allowed to interfere, this is a fight between a captain an' a king, so no funny business on both sides." Blue-eye lifted up a red rag for all to see. "When I drop this rag, the fight will begin. Ready? Fight!"

The moment the rag dropped, Slashblade darted forward and swiped his cutlass at Bloodfur's head.

"Die!" he hissed.

Bloodfur dodged the blow with speed that one wouldn't expect from a rat so large. Swinging his axe he counterattacked with a skillful blow at the stoat's gut. Their weapons met with a loud _clang!_

Blue-eye watched the fight with interest. Slashblade had obviously been practicing for this battle for a long time, because he had never seen the corsair captain fight with this much skill and ferocity before. He watched as the two weapons slashed and smashed against each other as their wielders sought for an opening in the other's defense.

Slashblade finally saw his chance as Bloodfur stumbled over a wooden stool, he thrusted his cutlass with all his might, aimed at the searat king's heart. Bloodfur barely managed to block the mighty thrust as he struggled to keep his balance.

 _That was too close!_ The searat thought to himself, _Let's finish this!_

Jumping forward, Bloodfur swung his massive axe at Slashblade's shield.

 _Thunk!_

"AAAGGGHHH!" Slashblade screamed. He glanced down in horror and pain as his shield and left arm were both cleaved in two by the axe. Dropping his cutlass he desperately tried to block the flow of blood with his right hand.

"Mercy, I beg ye, mercy!" The stoat whimpered as he tried to crawl away from the searat king's axe.

Bloodfur slowly walked to him, pressing his bloody axe against the fallen vermin's throat.

"I won't kill ye, Slashblade." Bloodfur suddenly declared. He lifted the axe away from Slashblade's neck.

"Oh thank ye. Thank ye, King Bloodfur." The stoat babbled thankfully. "I'll never cause ye any trouble again."

Bloodfur raised a paw to silence the thankful vermin. "I know ye won't, matey." He suddenly gave Slashblade a wide grin. "'cause I'm gonna send yew te th' slave pits."

Bloodfur watched with amusement as Slashblade's eyes grew wide with horror.

"Th-the slave pits. Are ye sure yer majesty?"

"Oh yes, I'm quite sure. "He paused to wipe the blood off his axe blade. "Unless ye would rather continue our little fight."

Slashblade wisely shook his head. Completely and utterly defeated, he limped away. Moaning pitifully as blood flowed from his wound.

"Ripface, go 'an get 'im a bandage. A dead slave is no use te me." Bloodfur commanded a small black searat.

"Yes yer majesty."

Bloodfur walked back to his seat with a slight limp. Noticing the vermin crews murmuring, he bellowed, "What are ye all starin' at?! Go back to yer feastin', enjoy yerselves. After all, it's not every day that an heir to the throne is born." Grabbing a tankard of seaweed grog, he raised it into the air. "TO PRINCE JASKVAR!"

"TO PRINCE JASKVAR!" The crowd cheered enthusiastically. "LONG LIVE THE PRINCE!"

As the mob of vermin cheered, they broke out a fresh barrel of wine and toasted the young prince.

When they settled down, a grizzled searat sprung up from his seat and started to warble a tune in a voice that sounded like a frog with a throat sore.

"My brothers an' I left our home,

To try the life of the sea,

And when we left our mother yelled,

"Now don't come back you three."

Ooooh, the life of a pirate for me!

Our captain's name was cap'n Reel,

A fine ol' villain was he,

He had big teeth as fine as steel,

But he couldn't even count to three,

Ooooh, the life of a pirate for me!

When cap'n Reel got hungry,

He'd try an' catch a whale,

But if we ever got near one,

He'd start to cry and wail,

Ooooh, the life of a pirate for me!

Then one fine day we spotted a ship,

Its pennants were the color of white,

Our captain yelled "let's get 'em boys,

So we charged and gave 'em a fight.

Ooooh, the life of a pirate for me!

Some we took as slaves,

The others we fed to the fishes,

Some we gave to the searat king,

To get in his good wishes,

Ooooh, the life of a pirate for me!"

Even though the searat didn't have the best of voices, it was a popular pirate ditty so the vermin cheered, regardless of the singer's voice.

"Speaking of slaves, I wonder when Hookarm will return." Bloodfur mused aloud to Blue-Eyes.

"Well, most of the ships that you send out usually take around four weeks to return."

"I know that." Bloodfur snapped. "It's just that Hookarm was always the fastest one to return, an' now he's been gone fer six weeks."

"Ah, that's right. Hookarm usually is faster than this. I wonder if he sailed too close to the Rogue Crew's shores.

Bloodfur pushed his plate of half eaten food aside. "Aye, though even if he did go close to them blood-hungry otters, I wouldn't put it past 'im t' sail out of there wit' flying colors. He's sure a lucky vermin, I'll give him that."

"I hear he's also pretty popular with all the other vermin crews too."

Bloodfur suddenly lowered his voice as he asked. "Just how popular I wonder. Enough to be a threat?"

Blue-Eyes quickly shook his head. "I seriously doubt it, your majesty. I think Captain Hookarm appreciates the fact that as long as he's loyal to you, you'll reward him handsomely."

Bloodfur reached over and grabbed a mug of wine. "Yeah, I guess he is pretty loyal." He grinned. "Unlike that fool Slashblade, eh?"

"Yes. Unlike Slashblade." Blue-Eyes grinned back. "Although, now you'll have to find a new captain for his ship." He added.

"Which ship was his again?"

"The _Pillager_. It's one of those massive ships with the three masts." Blue-Eyes replied.

"Ah, that's right. Well, I need you to subtly spread some rumors that the next vermin who catches my attention just might become a captain."

"The old "impress me or no promotion" tactic?" Blue-Eyes winked knowingly.

"Exactly." Bloodfur winked back.

They were suddenly interrupted by a large fox.

"Your majesty, there's a ship that just arrived, and declare that they're from the Land of Snow an' Ice," the fox said. "And their captain says that t' talk t' ye right away!"


	8. Chapter 7

NORTHLANDS

The group of shrews were dead tired when they finally stopped for lunch. Walking for more than half a day was taxing on the young beasts' strength.

Rosebud had started gathering wood for a fire when Rones suddenly declared, "We aren't gonna 'ave a fire today, lassie."

"But how will we cook lunch without a fire, Rones?"

"We'll jus' have tae make do wit' cold leftovers." Rones declared as he sat down on a rock.

Rosebud shrugged hopelessly as she searched her haversack for edible food.

" _I wonder why can't we have a fire,"_ Tragg pondered to himself, _"Is Rones not telling us something?"_ Tragg had been having this feeling lately that they were being watched, but he had dismissed it as his imagination playing tricks on him. Though, Rones had also been very quiet since they had started.

Scooting over to the older shrew, Tragg whispered, "Do ye think we're being followed, Rones?"

Rones shot a glance to Tragg, then he said "Don't tell Flugg or Rosebud, but yes, I do think we're being followed. Or at least we were."

Tragg asked quietly, "Who's following us, do you know?"

"I'm not sure, but if they were honest creatures I doubt they'd be sneakin' around an' followin' innocent travelers." Rones declared.

"Should we tell the others?" Tragg asked.

Rones paused. "I'm not sure. I think we might 'ave lost our pursuers sometime in the forest. So I wouldn't want to worry the others needlessly."

"Well, I wonder if we should jus' tell 'em, jus' in case they wanted tae keep an eye out" Tragg stated.

"I guess ye can tell 'em if ye'd like." Rones said as he searched his bag for food. "I'll take first watch."

After Tragg told Flugg and Rosebud about their pursuers, they ate a rather small (yet filling) dinner of apples and bread with a sliver of cheese. Afterwards, they unrolled their blankets and tried to catch what sleep they could before they would have to wake up and continue their journey.

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Tragg tossed and turned in his makeshift bed. He groaned as his back made contact with a hard, pointy rock.

"Ah! Stupid rock." He muttered. Turning over onto his other side, he noticed Rones silently watching the forest with hooded eyes.

Wrapped in his blanket, Tragg walked beside Rones and sat down beside him.

"Couldn't get any sleep, eh?" Rones remarked.

Tragg shook his head. "No. Besides, whenever I do fall asleep I jus' keep on havin' nightmares."

"Aye, everybeast usually has nightmares after their first battle. It's perfectly normal." Rones said sympathetically.

"It….It's not jus' the battle that I have nightmares about." Tragg stammered. He wasn't sure why he was telling Rones all of this. He jus' felt like he had to tell somebeast or he'd burst.

"I've been having this one nightmare. I keep seeing Father fightin' off swarms of vermin, an' he kept callin' out tae me for help, and I watched as mother was slain by some huge rat. And no matter how hard I tried I couldn't move tae help them, I jus' stood by as they got butchered by vermin." Tragg hastily tried to brush away the tears that were trickling from his eyes.

Rones patted Tragg comfortingly on the shoulder. "Now, now, Don't be ashamed tae weep. Ye've got every right tae mourn. Ye've lost your both yer parents and your clan in one day, it's not surprising that ye feel miserable. Why, if anybeast who went through half of what ye've been through didn't feel wretched, then that beast would have tae 'ave a heart made of stone."

In a whispered tone he added, "After all, I should know. Yer dad was my brother, an' I lost a lot of friends an' family too. The only reason ye haven't seen me crying yet is because I have to appear like I know what I'm doing, for ye young 'un's sake."

Tragg didn't know how he felt about being referred to as a "young un," but he appreciated how Rones was trying to cheer him up. "Thanks for tryin' tae make me feel better, Rones. I really appreciate it."

"Anytime," Rones winked in an attempt to lighten the gloomy atmosphere. "Now, would ye mind takin' a turn guarding the camp?" He asked.

"I guess I might as well. I couldn't go tae sleep if I tried." Tragg declared.

"Well that's good." Rones yawned. After giving himself a good stretch, he added. "I don't think I could've kept mae eyes open for very long if ye hadn't shown up. Well, goodnight."

"Goodnight, Rones."

After Rones had gone to sleep, Tragg sat stiffly for an hour or so before he too struggled to stay awake. He tried different things like, walking around the camp a few times, or slapping himself in the face to keep awake. Slowly but surely, Tragg felt the drowsiness begin to take over his senses, numbing them one by one.

Tragg suddenly jerked awake when he heard the sound of a twig breaking behind him. Turning around, he scanned the forest. Was that a shadow of creature he saw, darting in between the shadows?

Shaking his head, as if to clear his eyes in case they weren't seeing right, he slowly walked over to the area that he had thought the sound had come from.

After a short and fruitless search, Tragg walked over to Flugg and shook his friend awake.

"Flugg? Flugg wake up!" Tragg whispered.

"Eh, what do ye want?" Mumbled a rather tired Flugg.

"I was wondering if ye could take a turn at guard duty."

Flugg sat up and gazed around. "What time is it?" he asked.

"About three hours till dawn." Tragg replied. Then as if on second thought, he added, "I'm not sure if I was jus' seeing things because I was tired, but I think I might've seen something in the trees over there."

Flugg straitened up immediately. "Do ye think we should tell Rones in case ye did?"

Tragg paused. He didn't want to wake up Rones from his much needed sleep unless he was sure he had seen something. After all, out of all of them, Rones needed his rest the most since he was leading the group.

"Not this time, though we will tell him if we see or hear something suspicious again." Tragg announced.

"Alright then, see ya in the morning." Flugg said.

"Good night," Tragg replied. He lay down thankfully, finally able to slip into the comforting blanket of sleep.

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Tragg awoke to Rosebud shaking him.

"Get up, Sleepyhead. Ye've been sleepin' the mornin' away." She chuckled as she handed him a slice of bread followed with an apple.

"Where would I be without ye?" Tragg said as he chomped a bite out of his apple with relish.

"Probably starved an' lazy," Rosebud laughed.

Rones and Flugg joined them after they had eaten and packed their things. The group set off

"Where were ye two?" Tragg asked Flugg.

"We had found a small creek in the woods over there an' Rones said tae never pass up an opportunity tae get fresh water when you're on a long journey, so we both went and filled up our jugs."

"Did ye tell Rones about the noises I might've heard last night?" Tragg whispered.

"No, I thought if anyone should tell him it should be ye. Flugg suddenly grinned. "After all, you're the one who was awake an' said ye were hearin' things." He added mischievously.

"I wasn't hearin' things!" Tragg scoffed in mock anger. "It was probably jus' a bird or something hoppin' around in the night. After all, it's not like Flugg the eagle-eyed saw anything suspicious." Tragg added, a smile beginning to form around his lips.

Flugg tossed Tragg a pear. "Here, put a cork in the smart mouth of yours." He grinned.

Munching happily on the pear, Tragg asked, "Where did ye find the pears, over by the creek?"

Flugg nodded. "Yup, we also found a few roots an' other edibles too."

"Well, I think I should come wit' ye on your next foraging trip. It seems like you find all sorts of good stuff." Tragg said.

"If we did ye'd probably scoff half of it before we got back." Flugg winked.

"Ha, your one tae talk."

The two continued their friendly banter until the group of shrews reached a wide, open field. They stopped in the safety of the trees as they talked about what they should do next.

"Do ye think it's safe enough for us tae cross such an open field in daylight?" Rosebud asked Rones.

Rones scanned the field. "I'm not really sure. It's such I wide meadow, there is no cover whatsoever, if we were crossing it and something big like a hawk or eagle came we wouldn't 'ave anywhere tae hide."

"So, are we jus' gonna sit here an' wait for the sun tae go down?" Tragg asked.

"I kinda like the sound of your plan, Tragg." Flugg declared as he wiped sweat from his brow. "It's not like we have tae be at Redwall Abbey at a certain time or anything."

"Actually, Flugg, we should try an' get tae the Abbey before the season's out. We wouldn't want to be traveling up here in the northlands when winter sets in." Rones said.

"Um….Rones, ye _do_ know how tae get tae Redwall, right?" Tragg asked. He had only assumed that since Rones and Broge had traveled all over the northlands together, he would know the way to the famous Abbey.

"Weeell," Rones drawled, I'm not sure. I know Redwall Abbey is in Mossflower woods somewhere, but I've never been to the abbey before."

"Well that's jus' great." Tragg mumbled under his breath. Aloud he asked, "So are we jus' gonna head south an' hope we find run into it?"

"No, not quite, Laddie," Rones chuckled, "I know a place in the northern part of Mossflower where we should be able tae rest an' get supplies, they should also know where Redwall is, so we'll jus' ask 'em."

"Though what should we do now?" Rosebud asked.

"Yes, let's see. I think it might be alright if we try an' cross the field if we go quickly and quietly." Rones declared as he shouldered his haversack. "Let's be off."

The group scanned the skies for any large birds that might've been watching them as they crossed the meadow.

As they entered the line of trees on the other side of the field, Flugg let out a sigh of relief, "Whew, we made it."

Suddenly, an arrow whizzed past Flugg's head as the group heard the sounds of war cries.

"KILL, KILL, KIIIILLL!"

The group of shrews were suddenly surrounded as a tribe of thirty ferrets emerged from the trees. They were a rather scruffy looking lot. Most of the creatures had dyed fur the color of green or blue. Armed with axes, spears, and a few bows scattered here and there, the tribe looked formidable.

"Stay by my side!" Rones yelled, unsheathing his rapier, he stabbed a ferret in the chest.

As Tragg drew his sword, a large ferret leaped forward and swung his axe at Tragg's head. Tragg barely managed to block the axe swing with his rapier before the ferret swung out with his left paw, hitting Tragg full in the face.

Gasping in pain, the young shrew dropped to the ground, all he could see for a minute was stars. He watched helplessly as the ferret slowly raised his axe for the killing blow.

"Aaaarg!" the ferret suddenly screeched. Then he fell over as Flugg pushed him aside.

"Are ye alright, Tragg?" Flugg asked, his face covered with worry for his friend.

"I'm fine." Tragg leapt up as a blue-furred ferret armed with spear came charging toward them.

Dodging to the side, Tragg jabbed at the vermin's stomach. When the ferret blocked Tragg's rapier Flugg dove his sword into the ferret's side, killing him almost instantly.

"Let's stick together from now on, good idea?" Flugg gasped.

"You said it." Tragg replied. His eyes suddenly darted to a vermin who was sneaking behind Rosebud and Rones as they battled against the tide of vermin.

"Rosebud, Lookout!" He screamed.

Rones glanced behind him to see what Tragg was yelling about when he saw the ferret.

"Oh no ye don't" he growled as he swung a blow at his enemies head. The vermin, however, wasn't a bad fighter by any means. He blocked Rones' skillful blow and followed up with one of his own.

Grabbing his haversack with one hand and his rapier in the other, Rones charged the ferret like a madbeast.

"Rosebud!" He roared, "Follow me!"

Hacking and bulling his way through the ferrets, they reached a large oak tree.

"Climb up!" Rones shouted to Rosebud, "Climb up an' signal for the others tae join us, hurry!"

The young female shrew climbed the tree as swiftly as she could. Peering down from the bough she was standing on, she searched until she saw Flugg and her brother, fighting bravely against the ferrets.

"Flugg, Tragg!" Up here!"

Tragg noticed his sister waving her arms and shouting.

"We've got tae regroup wit' Rose and Rones!" Tragg yelled.

They battled their way over to the oak tree, when the tribe of vermin surrounded the group once again.

"Do these savages never give up?" Tragg gasped.

The ferrets suddenly parted to reveal a massive ferret walking toward them.

"Uh oh, looks like the big chief himself wants tae have a talk wit' us." Tragg said.

The ferret wore a long, green cape, and his fur was dyed a crimson red. He was armed with a spear and would jab it in their direction when he spoke.

"Ye be on our land, trespassers. If any of yew wish te survive then two of yew must stay as our prisoners, then, an' only then, will we let the other two go." He declared.

"Go an' roast your fat head, ye barbarian!" Rones shouted in reply.

The ferret chieftain stiffened at the shrew's words. "Then yew die," He spat.

He leapt out of the way to reveal two archers with drawn bows behind him.

"Fire!" The ferret roared.

"Watch out!" Flugg jumped in front of Tragg as the archers shot their bows.

"Ah!" Flugg gasped. He glanced down at the arrow protruding from his chest, then fell to the ground.

Tragg gazed in horror at Flugg, dropping to his fallen friends side he screamed, "FLUGG, NOOOO!"


	9. Chapter 8

SALAMANDASTRON

The mighty mountain fortress of Salamandastron stood tall and grim as Eric Swiftfoot of the Long Patrol made his way to the main gate.

After calling up to the guards to open the gate, he waited patiently, wrapped in his thoughts.

'I wonder how Lord Rockfur will respond to my report.' The hare mused to himself as the gate was finally unbarred. Entering Salamandastron, he walked through the maze of tunnels that would've had anybeast who wasn't one of the mountain's residents scratching their head in bewilderment. He went through the massive halls, up the long flights of stairs, and finally, through the wide tunnel that would lead him to the badgerlord's forge room.

When he finally reached the large door, he gave it a quick, quiet knock.

"Come in." A deep voice ordered.

Slipping in quietly, Eric walked over to the large figure standing beside the massive forge.

Lord Rockfur was rather small for a badger, though that was probably due to his old age. He was wearing a forge apron over his sand colored tunic, and he was holding a small sledgehammer in his paw. The badgerlord's arms and face were covered all over with battle scars from his youth, but his face still wore the expression of one who was wise and peaceful at heart.

After giving a respectful salute, the hare said, "Private Eric Swiftfoot reporting, sir."

"At ease," Rockfur replied. "Now, what did you want to tell me?"

"Sergeant One-ear said t' tell you that we found two more dead bodies down by th' shore, m'lord"

Rockfur gave a mournful groan at the news. "Which two was it this time?" He asked.

"It was th' two twins, Lilly and Bert, m'lord, we found 'em lying on the sand with arrows in their backs."

Rockfur closed eyes at the news. Did they bury them yet."

"Yes sir, it was too far to carry them back to the mountain, an' we still had to cross the toad's territory, so we buried them on the shore.

"Did you find any tracks of the beasts responsible?"

"Yes sir, our trackers reported that there was roughly twenty of the vermin."

"Does anybeast know if they came from the sea or by the mainland?" The badgerlord asked, his eyes turning a light shade of red.

"Uh, I'm not sure. Eric stammered as he saw the righteous anger burning in Rockfur's eyes. Then more firmly he added, "All I know is that the tracks led north, I'm not sure where they came from."

"Is that everything?" Rockfur asked.

"I think so, m'lord." Eric replied, then added as he suddenly remembered, "Oh, actually there is one more thing, Sergeant One-ear asked if we should sent a patrol after the bloody vermin."

Rockfur was silent as he pondered what he should say. He didn't want to let the murderers escape, but he wasn't sure if he should send a patrol that far north. Finally, after a while, he replied, "Yes, I think we can spare some patrollers, tell Sergeant One-ear to take a half a score of hares and try to find the vermin. If they can't find them in three days, I want them to come back, got that?"

"Yes sir." And with that, Eric left.

After the hare had left, Rockfur continued smashing and banging the sword blade he had been working on before Eric had interrupted him. As he smashed the lump of steel into the shape of a weapon, he growled, "You think you can kill my hares and get away with, eh vermin. Well one day you'll get too close to my mountain, and on that day there will be a reckoning."

After he had finished venting his anger, he sharpened the edge of the sword that he had just finished making. After he had the weapon reasonably sharp, he wiped the sweat off his paws with a towel. Then, after he had tidied up the forge room a little bit he decided to go on a walk to clear his head.

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Down in the kitchens, the head cook of Salamandastron was having difficulties (to say the least).

"WHERE DID THAT CARROT CAKE GO!?" He roared as he ran about the kitchen, looking for the missing cake. "When I find that thief I'm gonna take his bloomin' whisker an' pull 'em out! I'll chop his ears off an' make 'em into a pot of stew! I'll strangle the cad until he turns blue! I'll…I'll."

After the outraged cook got his breath back, he turned to the other hares in the kitchen. "Did _any_ of you see anything!?"

The hares were quick to shake their heads, so as not to attract the wrath of the angry cook.

"No."

"No sir."

"Nope, I didn't see a thing. Did you Bluetail?"

"Your guess is as jolly good as mine, Harry."

The head cook let out an angry snort, after he had calmed down somewhat, he said, "Well, let's keep an eye out for the scoundrel next time, shall we?" After checking the larder for more ingredients, he added, Alright, we still have enough to make another, so let's hop to it. Bluetail! Start mixing mare flour. Harry! You start on the carrots."

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Outside the kitchen hallway, two young hares giggled as they pushed the cart with the missing carrot cake on top down the tunnel.

"Can you hear the cook, Amber? I'm sure glad we didn't get caught, wot." Charlie said breathlessly to his companion-in-crime, a young female hare named Amber.

Charles Forthwood (or Charlie) was a tall, brown furred hare. He wore a blue tunic, and carried a small dirk at his side along with a small bag that held a few handy items that one would use when you were trying to pick a lock, or trying to "liberate" a carrot cake from a kitchen.

"You jolly well said it." Amber replied. Amber Thisledew was a pretty young maid, with light blue eyes and snow white fur. She wore a brown tunic and a short green cape that twirled as they ran down the hall, pushing the trolley at a high speed.

They didn't see the badgerlord until they almost crashed into him.

"WAAA! Watch out!" Charlie yelled out in warning as he desperately tried to swerve the cart out of the old badgerlord's way.

Dodging swiftly to the right, Rockfur grabbed the cart as it flew by and brought it to an abrupt halt.

Rockfur's eyes darted to the cake on top of the cart. "Well isn't this a coincidence. I hear that the head cook was going to make carrot cakes for dessert today. I wonder why he gave you both one of his cakes."

"Oh you know the cook…. He's really a quite generous chap at heart." Charlie stammered.

"Yeah," Amber agreed, "And after all, it's not like he doesn't have two other cakes to serve in case….well, in case…..uh."

Rockfur raised a paw to silence the two hares. "It's alright, I'm sure the cook won't mind terribly if his delicious carrot cake was eaten by none other than his badgerlord and two young , hungry hares." He winked mischievously.

"Yeah, that's right." Charlie agreed, "After all, you are the ruler of Salamandastron, you could walk right into the kitchen and tell them to give you _all_ the carrot cakes, and all the strawberry pies too."

"But if I did that, I'd be too fat to defend the mountain." Rockfur chuckled.

"Tell me, young ones," Rockfur inquired, "What are your names?"

Charlie and Amber both saluted smartly.

"Charles Dikkleworth Forthwood, sir!"

"Amber Maria Thistledew, sir!"

Rockfur's eyes lit up in recognition. "Of course, I remember now." Pointing to Charlie he said, "You're the son of Colonel Brewster aren't you."

After the young hare nodded, he pointed to Amber and added, "And you're the daughter of Sergeant One-ear, correct?"

"Yes sir."

Looking the pair up and down he asked, "What brigade are you cadets in?"

"The twenty-fifth brigade, sir." Charlie replied.

"Ah, that's a good brigade." Rockfur commented, turning toward the cart, he added, "Well, I think that carrot cake is getting stale, don't you think so?"

Charlie and Amber both smiled.

"Yes, we'd better make sure the poor cake doesn't get any more stale, eh wot." Charlie said.

"We wouldn't want it to go to waste after all." Amber added.

Rockfur grabbed the handles of the cart. "Yes, but I'll drive the cart this time." He chuckled.

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(TWO DAYS LATER)

As the sun's edge met the horizon, Sergeant One-ear's patrol made their back to the mountain.

"The patrol's back!" A sentry called from one of the windows above the main gate.

As the patrol entered through the gate, they were crowded by hares who wanted to know how the skirmish went.

"Did you fellows find the blaggards?" An old grey furred hare asked.

"Aye, we did." The tall, one eared hare leading the group replied. Sergeant One-ear was a grizzled veteran, armed with a long saber that was strapped to his belt. He carried a longbow slung over his left shoulder, and wore a long cape that was the color of sand on one side, and a dark brown and green on the other.

"Well, did you chaps stop those murderers?"

One-ear paused to look at the speaker. "We killed them all. Well, at least the group that murdered the young scouts anyway." He replied.

The way he had said that made the group of hares pause. Then they all started asking questions at the same time.

"Were there more vermin than just that band?"

"Did you let some escape?"

"What exactly did you find?"

"Silence in the ranks!" A voice boomed out.

The hares immediately stood at attention when they recognized the voice of Colonel Brewster.

The short lanky hare marched right up to the crowd of creatures. "Now what's going on here, wot. Let the beasts catch their bally breath. We'll all know in good time what happened down on the shore, until then, quit bugging the sergeant. Is that clear?"

"Yes sir." The crowd mumbled.

"Wot was that? I couldn't hear you!" The colonel yelled.

"YES SIR!" The hares replied, all of them smartly saluting as they stood at ramrod attention.

"Alright then, dismissed!"

As the crowd dispersed, Colonel Brewster walked up to One-ear. "I guess you want to report to Lord Rockfur, eh wot."

When the sergeant nodded, Brewster pointed to the main hall. "He's in the hall, probably talking to one of the captains, though I'm sure he'll be pleased to know that you've returned safely, wot."

"Thank you kindly, Colonel."

Then One-ear made his way to the hall to report to his master.

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Rockfur was speaking to one of the brigade captains when he noticed One-ear making his way toward him. After asking the captain if he could be excused, the old badger turned toward One-ear.

"Well, did you find the vermin?" Rockfur asked.

One-ear saluted as he gave the badgerlord his report. "Yes, m'lord, we followed the vermin as fast as we could without losing the tracks. When we found them, we saw that they had a few slaves chained together, four mice, one squirrel, and a young male badger to be exact. When we attacked the rats, they killed the mice and the squirrel, but we managed to free the young badger before they could kill him. The rats weren't taking prisoners and since we were outnumbered two to one we weren't either. So we slew them down to the last bloomin' rat. After the battle a large ship of rats arrived, I think they were going to pick up the the slaves from the vermin we had killed. But anyway, we waited for the cover of darkness then left the bally vermin choking our dust. End of report, m'lord."

One-ear stood at ramrod attention as he waited for Rockfur to reply.

The badgerlord waved a paw, "At ease." After the hare had relaxed, Rockfur continued, "I noticed that you said the vermin were rats, were they searats or land rats?"

"I'm not sure m'lord. They were different than any other kind of rat I've seen, all of them had grey fur and unlike most vermin I've seen, they fought together like a battle hardened squad."

"Hmm, that is interesting. So where is the young badger slave that you freed?"

"He got a bump on the head in the skirmish, Doc said it wasn't anything too serious, though he said he might have a headache for a little while, I didn't want to take any chances though, so I sent him down to the infirmary once we got back."

Rockfur fingered the fur on his chin as he inquired, "Do you think he would be interested in staying with us."

One-ear gave him a wink. "I'm not sure, maybe you should ask him yourself."

"Hmp, I guess I could, though maybe I should wait until he's gotten some rest first."

One-ear gave a tired yawn. "I don't know about you, m'lord, but I could use a nice afternoon nap after running about for two days. Wot."

Rockfur's eyes shone with concern. "Oh I'm sorry, sergeant. I didn't mean to keep you away from your rest."

"Oh it's alright, m'lord. Is there anything else you want me for?" One-ear asked.

"No, that should be everything." Rockfur replied.

"Well, then until you need me again, m'lord." And with that, One-ear left to find some much deserved rest.


	10. Chapter 9

NORTHLANDS

As Tragg stood beside the still body of Flugg, he cried out for help. "Rones! Rosebud! Flugg has been shot, Come quick!"

Help came a lot more swiftly than Tragg had thought.

The woods were suddenly filled with the sound of a blood chilling war cry as arrows came whistling from the treetops to plunge into the tribe of ferrets.

"HAAAWAY THE BRAAAAAW!"

Tragg gasped as a young squirrel dressed in a brown tunic leapt down from the branch that he and Flugg were under.

Crouching down, the squirrel shot an arrow off in the direction of the vermin. "Here, if ye want to get out of this alive, take this." The young squirrel said as he handed Tragg a short bow with a quiver of green fletched arrows.

"But my friend needs help."

"Then ye'd better make sure ye kill these ferrets so they can't hurt him or anyone else." The squirrel retorted as he shot a ferret in the chest. "That or ye could jus' sit here."

Tragg grabbed the squirrel's extra bow and shot it at one of the female ferrets armed with a spear. He missed the female but hit another who was standing close beside her.

The two young creatures stood side by side as they helped rain down death on the vermin.

The ferrets however, gave as good as they got, as they dodged arrows, the ferrets would throw spears or shoot arrows at anybeast who poked his or her head from their cover.

However, ferret after ferret slowly dropped to the ground as they were hit with arrows from every direction.

"Tribe! Fall back!" the ferret chief finally yelled. He then ran swiftly from the glade to the safety of the thick trees.

As the remnants of the vermin tribe followed their leader, Rones quickly ran over to Flugg's side. Feeling for a pulse in the young shrew's neck, he let out a sigh of relief. "He's still alive." Turning to the squirrel, he asked desperately, "Does your clan have a doctor? My son is wounded."

"They will take your son to our healer." He declared, pointing to a small group of squirrel who were making their way to the group.

As the squirrels carried the injured shrew through the forest, the leader of the squirrels walked up to Tragg and Rosebud.

"My name is Chief Brushfur of the Macburl clan. If ye there is anything me an' my clan kin do for ye, jus' ask, an' we'll try tae help ye."

"Thank you, Chief Brushfur." Rosebud said politely.

"Do ye know if Flugg will be alright?" Tragg asked.

"Your friend's wound isn't actually as serious as I first thought," Brushfur replied. "The arrow has only grazed his chest. Even though it is a pretty deep, I don't think he's in any immediate danger. Though, I think it would be wise if our clan healer checked him, jus' in case."

"Well that's a relief." Tragg said. "How far is your healer?"

"Our clan lives in a part of the forest that we call Camp Oakdrey. It's not far from here, so we sent a messenger to tell them that we had a run in wit' ferrets and tae tell our healer to prepare for a new patient."

The squirrels had made a stretcher for Flugg made out of a cloak and branches tied together firmly with a few belts. As Rones and one of the squirrels carried Flugg, his eyes flickered open briefly.

"Did we win?" He asked Rones weakly.

"Yes, yes we did, Flugg." Rones said, relieved that his son was able to speak at all. "Jus' lie down an' rest now, so ye kin get healed soon, alright laddie?"

"Alright, Father," Flugg mumbled obediently. Turning his head, he glanced at the group of two-score squirrels. "Where did all the squirrels come from?" He wondered aloud to Tragg. (Who had ran over once he had seen Flugg awake and talking)

"They're a clan called the Macburls, apparently they live somewhere nearby in a place called Camp Oakdrey an' that's where we're taking ye." Tragg replied.

"Were they the ones that helped us beat those ferrets?"

"Yes, I don't think we would've survived the attack without 'em." Tragg smiled, "Now, Flugg. Enough questions, Rones said ye need tae get some rest an' I completely agree wit' him." Tragg winked, "After all, we can't get tae Redwall while you're moaning about in bed, so hurry up an' get better."

"Whatever ye say, Chief," Flugg said sarcastically. He suddenly looked thoughtful, "Hey, I never thought of that. Since your dad was the chief doesn't that make ye the heir."

Flugg suddenly broke off as he started to cough violently.

"Now, now, take it easy, Flugg." Tragg said as he put a comforting paw on Flugg's shoulder. "Get better. Okay?"

Flugg gave a smile and nodded weakly as he laid his head back on the stretcher.

After Flugg had laid down to rest, Rones walked up to the squirrel chieftain. "I jus' wanted tae say thank ye for saving us back there. We owe ye are lives."

"Oh don't worry about it." Brushfur replied. "I only did what any normal beast would do."

"Well I'm glad ye were normal beasts then." Rones remarked. He then returned to walk beside his son.

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It was the late afternoon when the group finally entered the thick clump of trees that the squirrels called their home.

The squirrel's home was massive. Most of the Camp Oakdrey wasn't even touching the ground. Instead, the squirrels had built many of their dreys (the squirrel's term for their home) up in the trees that clustered around the massive oak that had giving the camp its name.

As they walked toward the healer's drey, young ones danced around them gleefully, bursting with excitement.

"Uncle Beech, di' ye chase of dose nasty vermins?"

"Yeah, did ye spank 'em an' kick 'em off our territory?"

The young squirrels asked.

Chief Brushfur walked up to the young ones.

"Now children, we've got a very hurt shrew wit' us, so I need ye tae collect some nuts for him so when he gets better he kin eat tae his heart content, alright?"

The young squirrels answered as one. "Aye, Chief." Then they scampered off to do their chieftain's bidding.

Brushfur gave the shrews a wink. "Young uns, they always want tae help, even when sometimes it's not best idea."

They carried Flugg to a hollowed out tree where the tribe's healer lived.

"Grey-eye, are ye there?" Brushfur called. To the shrews he explained, "Grey-eye is a great healer, though she has a tendency to wander sometimes."

"What gobblegook are ye telling 'em now?" a female voice asked.

They turned to see an elderly squirrel dressed in a long, dusty brown dress walking toward them slowly.

"I might be old but I'm not deaf." Grey-eye muttered. She glanced over to Flugg. "Take him inside." She ordered.

They set him down carefully on the bed that Grey-eye had pointed to. The old female squirrel had started mixing herbs when she declared. "I can't work unless ye all give me some room tae breath. Chief Brushfur, why don't ye show them around or somethin' tae keep 'em out of my head fur while I work."

Brushfur nodded. "That sounds like a good plan. Come on, let me show ye the sites."

Rones walked up to Brushfur and said quietly, "I want tae stay wit' mae son."

Brushfur gave Rones a sympathetic glance. "I understand, but Grey-eye is the best healer we've got an' she doesn't work well when she feels like she's being watched."

Rones looked like he was prepared to argue a bit more on the subject. Then he finally sighed. "Oh fine." To Grey-eye he asked. "Please take good care of mae son."

"Oh don't worry I almost never lose a patient. Besides, I'm not going tae do any surgery yet, I'm jus' gonna check his wound an' see what I should do. He'll be fine."

"Well I hope so." Rones replied gruffly. Turning toward Flugg he said, "Alright now, laddie. Listen tae what Grey-eye tells ye. I'll be back later once she's done, okay?"

"It's alright, Da," Flugg rolled his eyes. "Seriously, I feel fine. Don't worry." He broke off once again as he started coughing.

Rosebud gave her cousin a quick hug. "Stay put." She winked.

"Ha ha," Flugg laughed sarcastically. "It's not like I could go anywhere even if I wanted to."

Tragg punched Flugg's shoulder lightly. "Get better soon, ye mud-toothed worm."

"Oh ho, if I'm a worm then yer an-

"Now now, young uns," Grey-eye interrupted, "Ye kin visit 'im right after I'm done checking his wound, but not right now."

After Grey-eye had shooed the group out of her den, Chief Brushfur clapped his paws together. "Alright, so what would ye like tae do first? Do ye want tae go an' grab somethin' tae eat or would ye rather take a look around?"

"I'd kinda like tae take a look around." Tragg declared. "I don't really feel like eatin'."

"Yeah," Rosebud agreed. "Besides, this place looks awesome!"

"Well thank ye," Brushfur beamed. "The Macburl clan has lived in Camp Oakdrey for generations, and we're very proud of our home. Would ye want me tae show ye the upper half or the lower half of the camp?"

"Lower half." Rones chipped in before Tragg and Rosebud could say anything. Turning toward the younger shrews he grinned, "If ye youngsters want tae go runnin' about in a tree, ye'll have tae wait until after I've seen the sights here on the ground first."

So the squirrel chieftain showed them the dens and huts that the squirrels had built on the ground. This was where most of the clan squirrels lived in the fall so that they could collect the bountiful nuts that would be lying on the ground without having to make the extra trips up the trees. Brushfur then showed them where the clan would cook and eat their food.

"Would ye like tae see where we practice our archery skills?" Brushfur asked.

"Sure," Rones replied. "Rosebud?" he asked. "Didn't ye use a bow? I remember Tragg tellin' me how ye used tae be a really good archer."

Rosebud nodded. "Aye, I usually preferred a good bow over any other type of weapon. I stopped training though because I had gotten pretty busy helpin' Mother cook and clean for the clan."

"So, where is your clan?" Brushfur asked.

The silence that followed the question made Brushfur add hastily, "That is, if I may ask."

"No it's alright." Rones said. "It's only fair that since ye saved our lives that we should tell ye our story."

As they walked, Rones began telling Brushfur their sad tale.

He had just finished telling Brushfur about the searat raid when they finally reached the place where the squirrels were practicing their archery skills.

"I've heard many a sad tale in my day." Brushfur remarked when they had finished. "But none quite like yours." He turned to Rosebud and Tragg, sympathy showing on his face. "I know what it feels like tae lose both of your parents in one day. It must 'ave been hard on ye two, losing your parents along wit' your whole clan in the same day."

"Yeah, it is." Tragg replied, then to change the subject he asked, "Would ye mind if Rosebud an' I practiced wit' the bows a bit?"

"Of course ye can. If ye want ye could also practice wit' mae son, Elmblade. That's him over there." Brushfur declared as he pointed to a young squirrel who was shooting arrow after arrow at a round target.

Tragg looked a little closer at the young squirrel dressed in the brown tunic. "Hey, that's the squirrel who helped me an' Flugg when the ferrets attacked. Come on Rosebud, let's go an' thank him."

"Alright, but let's hurry, I've been wanting tae feel my fingers pulling a bowstring again for a while."

Tragg ran up to the young squirrel who was selecting an arrow from his quiver.

"Hey there," Tragg said, "You're the one who let me borrow one of your bows when the vermin attacked us aren't ye?

"Yes, I guess I still haven't properly introduced myself." The squirrel replied, "Elmblade Macburl, at your service." He said with a small bow.

Tragg was surprised at the squirrel's formal greeting, "I'm Tragg," he said, unsure of how to reply, "Er...at your service."

Rosebud shot Tragg an amused glance. To Elmblade she gave a quick curtsy, "Rosebud of the clan of the Northern shrews, at your service."

Elmblade nodded in reply.

They stood for a minute in a slightly awkward silence.

"So, Elmblade," Tragg said to break the silence, "Ye like bows?"

Elmblade nodded, "They're okay. I'm really a swordbeast at heart though."

"Really?! Me too! Maybe after we practice a bit with the bows we could use our swords."

The squirrel looked amused. "If ye want. Though are ye sure ye'd like tae fight wit' that rapier? It looks rather short."

"Hey, this 'short' rapier has brought me safely this far, an' I plan on using it."

Rosebud interrupted them by grabbing a light bow from one of the racks. "Is it all right if I use this one?" She asked.

"Sure." Elmblade replied. As he readied his bow he asked Tragg. "Do ye want tae try your luck at some archery?"

"Um… Sure, why not." Grabbing one of the bows at random, Tragg stood beside Rosebud and Elmblade as they prepared to shoot the target.

"So these are the rules," Elmblade began. "See the red circle in the center? That's worth ten points if ye hit it. If ye hit the white line surrounding the red, that's worth five points. And finally, if ye hit near the outside of the target, that's worth only one point. Alright, now, who wants tae go first?"

"I will." Rosebud declared. Stepping forward, she aimed at the target.

Thunk!

Elmblade went up to the target. "Ye hit it right in the red!" he said, clearly impressed, "How long have ye been practicing wit' a bow?"

"Three years. But mae mother thought archery wasn't something a girl mae age should be practicing, so she asked da tae stop mae lessons."

"That's ridiculous," Elmblade huffed. "Girls should know how tae defend themselves jus' as much as anybeast."

"Excuse me," Tragg winked, "Do ye mind if I go next?"

"Oh of course," Elmblade slid out of the way as Tragg got ready to hit the target. Tragg had never used a bow that much before, but after all, how hard could it be?

Pulling back the bowstring until it touched his cheek, Tragg released the arrow.

Thunk!

They ran up to see where Tragg had shot the target. His arrow had hit near the outside of the circle.

"Hey, that shot's not too bad," Rosebud said as she saw Tragg disappointed look, "Especially since ye don't usually use a bow."

"Yeah, I guess so." Tragg sighed. Then smiled as he added sarcastically, "Well Elmblade, I'd like tae see ye try an' beat _that_ marvelous shot!"

"Oh, I'll try mae best." Elmblade winked back. Taking one of his green fletched arrows, he shot toward the target.

Crack!

Elmblade's longbow was considerably more powerful than the bows that Flugg and Rosebud where using, so when his arrow hit the target, it smashed a big hole through it.

"Looks like ye and Rosebud tied for first place." Tragg declared as he pointed to the hole in the middle of red circle.

"Do ye both want tae try again?" Elmblade asked. "This is kinda fun!"

"Fun for ye maybe," Tragg replied. "I tell ye what, I'll go an' ask Rones if he has a good al' fashioned sling that I could borrow, an' then we'll see who kin hit what. Agreed?"

Rosebud laughed. "Agreed, though ye might want tae hurry, I'm not sure if there will be much of a target left wit' Elmblade shootin' his massive arrows at it."

"Well, then I'll jus' use a good ol' tree as a target then." Tragg chuckled.

The young shrew then ran off to see if he could find his uncle Rones.


	11. Chapter 10

REDWALL

It had been three days since Scarnose and Goldentail had first arrived at the abbey, when Scarnose asked the Abbot Daniel if they could watch Michael the Recorder teaching the young ones.

"Well I must admit that is a rather unusual request." The Abbot replied. "But you can watch the class if you want. Just make sure Brother Michael knows beforehand, alright?"

"Sure thing, Father Daniel," Scarnose answered. "Come on, Goldentail. Let's go 'n' tell Michael that he's got two more students for his class today."

As the two hamsters walked off, Daniel just stood there, watching them with a puzzled expression.

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By the time Scarnose and Goldentail found Michael, the class had already started.

"Would you mind if Scarnose an' I stayed and watched." Goldentail asked.

Michael was a little surprised by the request, but he kept the calm look on his face that he always wore whenever he was teaching the abbey young ones.

"Of course you can stay, knowledge is important for all to have. Not just the young or the old." Pointing to two chairs near the back he said, "Please, make yourselves comfortable.

After the two hamsters had taken their seats, Michael continued his lecture.

"Now who can tell me who the ruler of Mossflower was when Martin the Warrior first came to our woods?"

Sam the squirrel raised a paw, "Tsarmina the wildcat."

"Correct, and does anybeast know who her brother and father were?"

A young female mouse raised her paw, "Her father was a wildcat named Vergauga."

"Correct, and her brother?"

The room went silent as the young creatures tried to remember the lesson from yesterday.

"Gingivere, her brother's name was Gingivere." A voice called out.

The class turned around to see who had spoken.

Scarnose still sat with his hand in the air. "Was I right, Brother Michael?" He asked.

"Um…Yes that is correct." Michael replied. "If you don't mind me asking, how did you know that? Do they teach Mossflower history in Southsward?"

"Not all of it," Scarnose chuckled. "But I know about Gingivere because he didn't always live in Mossflower."

Michael's eyes shone with interest. "Really? Would you mind telling us where else he lived?"

"Sure, I'd be happy to." Scarnose replied. Standing up so that all the class could see him, he began, "Gingivere had lived in Mossflower and raised his family there, but after a long while, he decided (for whatever reason) to leave and to wander south. Some say his descendants still live on in Southsward."

"Well that is…very interesting." Michael declared. "Have you ever met one of his descendants?"

"I'm not sure, I might have." Scarnose replied. "But every time I run into a wildcat I don't walk up an' ask "Are you Gingivere's descendant?"

"Still, that would've been amazing to meet somebeast who was related to such a historical figure. But oh well. Now where were we… oh yes, can anybeast tell me who murdered Verdauga, Tsarmina or Gingivere?"

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Skipper and Daniel were taking their daily walk on the west wall a little earlier than unusual.

"What do you think of our guests from Southsward, Skipper?" Daniel asked the large otter.

"I'm not quite sure what t' make o' 'em." Skipper replied. "What do _you_ think of them, Father Abbot?"

Daniel let out a quiet sigh. "I don't think that they might wish harm on our abbey or something like that. But it's just that those two hamsters have been acting a bit peculiar lately. Why, just the other day they were just asking Foremole about Redwall's foundations. And before that, they were asking Sister Julia about everything she knew about all of the herbs and medicines that we have in our abbey."

"Well, maybe they're just curious." Skipper remarked.

"Curious of how we defend the abbey against attacks? Or how about the fact that they seem to know quite a bit about our abbey's history?!"

The otter scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Yeah, I've wonderin' 'bout that myself." Skipper gave the mouse an amused look. "But even if we're suspicious about them, what are we gonna do? Chuck 'em out of the abbey? Wouldn't that say a lot about Redwall's famed hospitality."

"Well, that's true." The Abbot agreed. "Though like I said before, I'm not sure if they're a threat or anything like that. It's just... I'm not sure what they're not telling us."

They continued in silence until they reached the end of the west wall.

Once they reached the stairs Skipper declared, "Well, I told Friar Peter that I would catch some shrimp for him after our walk. So I guess I'll see you around, Father Abbot." After the otter had waved good-by, Abbot Daniel decided to see how Brother Michael was doing.

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As the abbot made his way to the room where Michael taught the abbey youngsters, he was almost ran into by the young otter Sebias.

"Sebias! What are you doing out of class this early?" Daniel inquired.

"Brother Michael let us out early today, Father Abbot." Sebias replied breathlessly. "Is that all you needed me for?" he asked, "'Cause I was gonna run down t' the pond an' 'elp Skipper catch some shrimp."

"Yes, that'll be all. Now go have some fun." Daniel chuckled. The abbot shook his head as he watched Sebias dash off.

"Ah, the joy of youth," He murmured to himself as he walked up to a large wooden door.

After knocking on the door gently, the mouse entered the room.

"Brother Michael?"

"Yes, Father." The Recorder replied. "What is it?"

"I just wanted to see how you were doing. Sebias told me that you had let school out early today."

Michael let out a tired groan. "Yes, I let them out early because my brain felt like it was going to explode. And after all, it is a beautiful day outside."

"That it is." Daniel agreed. "So how did your new students do?" The abbot asked with a wink.

"Well they weren't that bad at first but after a while, the talkative one, Scarnose I believe, started asking a lot of questions about our abbey's history. In order to answer some of them I had to pull out our abbey's records! All in all, my brain is plain exhausted."

"Brother Michael the Recorder of Redwall Abbey exhausted?! My, my, those questions must have been hard indeed." Daniel chuckled.

"Ha ha, very funny," Michael replied. "Maybe _you_ should try teaching someone who knows just as much history as you do."

"Well, the fact that you're admitting that somebeast is almost as smart as you is history right there." The abbot joked.

Michael put a large book back on the shelf. "Yes well I'll be sure to right that down. Is lunch ready yet?"

"I'm not sure." Daniel replied as he helped stack some of the books. "I'll go check if you want. Though I want to see how the otter crew is doing."

"Any news about those visitors that are supposed to arrive?" Michael inquired.

"None, Scarnose and Goldenfur seem to be keeping a pretty tight lip about when they should arrive. Scarnose had said that they would probably reach the abbey in two days, and that was three days ago. But Skipper still has guards posted on the walls to let us know the moment anybeast arrives."

"Thank you for the help." Michael said as he folded sheets of paper. "But I can handle cleaning this up, I'm sure you have other important duties that you need to do."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. Well, I guess I'd better get going. I'll see you at lunch."

"Alright. See you."

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The hot midday sun beat down on the sentries who were guarding the abbey's south wall. One otter in particular, a grizzled old seadog named Bragdur, was leaning drowsily against the red sandstone wall when he suddenly stiffened as he heard the sound of marching paws. Standing up straight he searched the land for any sign of the beasts.

When his eyes caught the movement of creatures marching through the forest, he called out to the closest otter he could see. "Rudderbank, stay 'ere an' keep an' eye on those creatures in the forest. I'll go an' warn Skipper."

The pretty female otter gave Bragdur a glance. "Do you think they're the travelers that those hamsters were telling us about?"

"I'm not sure, but we can't be too careful." Bradgur replied over his shoulder as he ran off to find one of the abbey leaders.

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By the time Bradgur had found the abbot, Skipper, Mother Mira and Michael were already waiting by the main gate, along with Scarnose and Goldenfur.

"Have they arrived at the gate yet?" Daniel asked, exhausted from running from the abbey to the gatehouse.

"Nope, yer just in time, matey," Skipper replied.

The abbot brushed imaginary dust specks off his habit. "Well, let's go and see who our mysterious guests are, shall we." Daniel said as he walked up the stairs that led to the battlements.

Once he had reached the top off the wall, Daniel glanced over. "Oh my! There are a few more than I had expected." He said as he pointed to the three-score hamsters marched orderly toward the abbey.

The troop of hamsters were armed with large triangle wooden shields and war axes, and looked like they weren't strangers at the art of war.

"My, these friends of yours definitely look… ready for surprises." Daniel commented to Scarnose.

"Well ye must understand that they've been traveling for a long while and they have t' defend themselves from anybeast who might wish them harm." Scarnose replied.

"An' after all, we did warn you that there were quite a few of us." Goldenfur added.

"Well, when you said "quite a few" we thought you meant a dozen or so. But sixty! Now that _is_ quite a few." Skipper declared. Turning toward Daniel, the otter chieftain asked, "Should I go 'n' open th' gate, Father Abbot?"

The mouse glanced at the rapidly marching troop of creatures. "Yes, but tell them they must surrender their weapons first." Daniel raised a paw to interrupt Scarnose's objection. "Yes Scarnose, I know they're your friends but Redwall is a place of peace, and I would prefer that anybeast who enters our walls would prove their friendship by doing something as simple as surrendering their weapons. After all, it's not like they'll need them, right?"

Scarnose sighed. "Aye, I guess you're right."

As the troop of hamsters reached the gate, they were confronted by Skipper and half of his otter crew.

"Well 'ello there, mates. The name's Skipper. May I talk to your leader?"

"The ranks parted as a large, brown furred hamster walked up to the otter.

"My name is Grank. I'm the official ambassador of Moleguard."

Grank was a large creature, dressed in a grey tunic and carrying a large double bladed axe that he had slung over his shoulder.

"May we enter the abbey?" Grank inquired.

"Aye mate, but first you 'ave t' give up your weapons."

Grank immediately swung the axe off his shoulder and presented it to Skipper.

"If that's what we must do, than please, take them." He said politely.

Skipper looked a little confused that they had surrendered their weapons so easily. He had been expecting them to put up a bit more of a squabble than that.

Grinning, the otter chieftain accepted the axe. "Well thank you, matey. I 'ope you don't mind."

Grank waved a paw dismissively. "Oh don't worry about it. I would do the same thing if an armed stranger arrived at my door."

After Grank had given the order for all of the hamsters to surrender their weapons to the otter crew, Skipper barked out to the otter guards by the main gate. "Open 'er up, mates!"

The large wooden gates creaked as they opened slowly.

After he had entered through the gate, Grank noticed the group of abbey leaders walking down from the walls to greet them.

Abbot Daniel was the first to introduce his self. "Good evening. I'm the Abbot Daniel of Redwall Abbey. And these," he added, pointing toward the creatures behind him, "Our Brother Michael and Mother Mira."

"I'm honored to meet you." Grank replied with a respectful bow. "My name is Grank the Axe. I'm here to see if I can try an' forge an alliance with the good creatures of Mossflower and Moleguard."

"Well we shall see, my son," The abbot Replied. "Moleguard, eh? That's somewhere in Southsward I presume?"

"That is correct." Grank replied with a chuckle. Then turning toward Scarnose and Goldenfur he declared. "Goldetail! Scarnose! So you both made it alive to Redwall without falling into an adder hole. How've you two been?"

"Oh we've been doing fine." Scarnose replied. "And you?"

"As fine as a bumblebee on a warm sunny day!"

Turning to the abbot, Grank asked, "Would you mind if my soldiers rest by your abbey pond over there. They've been traveling for a while now an' they'd appreciate a rest from this hot sun."

"Of course they may rest by the pond." Daniel said. "In fact, why don't you all come right on into the Great Hall. Friar Peter probably has lunch ready by now an' we can finish talking there."

Grank agreed, and so he went to his soldiers and told them that the good abbot had decided to let them into the abbey. Thus, they would have to be on their best behavior.

When he had finished telling his soldiers the news, he gave a polite nod to the Redwallers. "After you."

"Do you think you and your companions will stay at our abbey long?" Michael the Recorder asked as they walked across the abbey grounds.

"I'm not sure yet. I hope so." Grank replied. "If you could excuse me for a minute, I'd like to talk with Scarnose."

"Of course you can. You might want to hurry though, or you might miss lunch. And believe me, you wouldn't want to miss lunch." Daniel replied.

"Don't worry, we'll only be a second."

As the others pulled on ahead, Grank whispered to Scarnose, "Did you learn all you could?"

"Yes sir." Scarnose replied. "Excuse me sir, but where are the rest of the soldiers. Did they fall in an ambush or something?"

"No, they've just been…redeployed elsewhere." Grank replied. "Just don't mention it to the abbot and we should be fine."

"I wonder what he'll say when he hears the real reason why we came up here."

Grank paused. Finally, after much thought, he stated, "I guess we'll just have to make sure he doesn't know until they're too late to stop it."

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 **Author notes**

 **And we're back to Redwall. Hope you guys have been enjoying the book so far. If there are questions about the book please PM me and I'll try and answer your questions. Also, (Just for fun) if you want, you can tell me who your favorite character is so far, and who your favorite (or least favorite) villain is. :D**

 **~Sebias of Redwall~**


	12. Chapter 11

TERRAMORT

King Bloodfur sat impassively on his throne as he waited for his visitors from the Land of Snow and Ice to arrive. On the left side of his throne, his captain of the guard, a large dark searat named Bruggor stood at attention, ready to neutralize any threat to the searat king. On his right side, Blue-eye stood with a calm smile on his features.

 _It's amazing how no matter what the situation is, that weasel always looks so dang calm._ Bloodfur thought to himself. _I guess that's one of the reasons why he's my chief advisor. I need somebeast who can remain calm under any circumstances._

As the door to hall opened with a loud creak, he stiffened, prepared to meet whoever these strange beasts were. He was surprised when only a lone vixen entered the hall.

The vixen was a white furred young fox. She had an eyepatch covering her left eye, and wore a snow white tunic. Even though she was clearly outnumbered by searats and corsairs, she strode confidently up to Bloodfur.

"You are the fearsome King Bloodfur I presume?" She asked.

Bloodfur gave a nod. "Yes, that's me name. Who're yew?"

"I'm Captain Sanjur of his majesty Emperor Baro Steelclaws' royal forces. I've come to deliver a message." Pulling out a scroll, she handed it to the searat king.

After he had read the paper, he passed it to Blue-eye to read.

Once the weasel had finished it, Bloodfur asked, "Well Blue-eye? What do you think?"

"I'm not quite sure, your majesty." Blue-eye replied. "I find it rather suspicious that they would like you to meet them on some other island other than your own."

"My thoughts exactly." Turning to Sanjur, he asked, "Tell me. Why would I leave the safety of my island to go and meet somebeast out in the middle of nowhere where I could get ambushed or killed instead of meeting here?"

Sanjur grinned, "Because my master wouldn't want to meet on your island for the same reason. How would he know you wouldn't try to assassinate him since you would be holding the upper paw?"

"Apparently we'll never know." Bloodfur replied, amused. After some contemplation, he added, "Though I guess I wouldn't mind meeting on an island if it was a neutral one and not far from Terramort."

"I think his majesty has guessed what your decision would be, because he told me that if you didn't like meeting him in the Land of Snow and Ice then I should ask you if you'd like to meet him at island. It's not far from here. It's the one with the volcano on it."

"Yes, I know the place." Bloodfur commented. He gazed into the vixen's eyes to see if he could spot the slightest sign that she might be lying. Finding none, he said, "Let me talk with my advisor first."

"You might want to hurry," Sanjur replied. "Our leader doesn't like to be kept waiting."

Bloodfur's eyes glinted dangerously. "An' I don't like being rushed," He declared. "And if yer leader has got a problem wit' that, then he kin go 'n' jump of a cliff fer all I care."

Sanjur looked slightly ruffled at how Bloodfur had talked so disrespectfully about her emperor.

"Alright," She finally replied. "But hurry."

Just as the vixen turned to leave, Bloodfur called, "'Ey fox, get back over here."

"What do you want?" Sanjur asked after she had turned around to face Bloodfur.

Bloodfur grinned. "You forgot to bow before yew left."

Giving an annoyed sigh, the vixen bowed respectfully.

"There, that's better. Now you kin ask me fer permission to leave."

Sanjur gritted her teeth as she asked, "Do I have yer permission, your majesty."

It was obvious by the way she said it that she wasn't one who was used to having to ask for permission for anything.

"Yes." Bloodfur replied. "You are dismissed."

After Sanjur had left, Bloodfur turned to Blue-eye. "So Blue-eye, what do yew think? What do we stand to gain from all this?"

"Well…" Blue-eye pondered. "An alliance with the lands of Snow and Ice might not be that bad, as long as their ruler doesn't start poking his snout where it doesn't belong."

"Hahar! If he thought he could get away wit' pokin' is nose into my business, than he's got another thing comin'."

"But still," Blue-eye said. "I think it would be worth the trip. After all, we don't even know what kind of beast this 'Baro Steelclaws' is. If I may be frank, he sounds rather intriguing."

"Hmm…" Bloodfur tapped the side of his throne as he tried to decide what to do.

After a while, his thoughts were interrupted by a young searat who came bursting through the doors.

"The Wavedog is back!" He declared.

Giving Blue-eye a glance, the searat king rose from his throne. "Hookarm is back, eh? He mused aloud to Blue-eye. Pointing to the young rat, he declared, "You there, tell Cap'n Hookarm that I'll be waiting fer 'im to report to me immediately. You got all that?"

"Yes sir."

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Once Hookarm had heard that King Bloodfur wished to see him, he made his way quickly up the main hall.

As he entered the hall, Bloodfur rose from his throne where he was discussing with Blue-eye and walked over to greet the corsair captain. "Bring fresh seaweed grog fer me matey Hookarm! He called.

"Hookarm, how've you been?" Bloodfur asked as he embraced Hookarm with a hug and pounded him roughly on the back.

"Fitter 'n a flea an' happier then a hedgehog," Hookarm replied cheerfully. "Anythin' new or exciting happen when I was away?"

Bloodfur and Blue-eye share an amused glance.

"I guess you can say somethin' out of th' ordinary happened, though it seems like yew made it jus' in time." Bloodfur remarked.

Hookarm shot them a puzzled look as he asked, "Why what happened. Does it 'ave somethin' to do wit' that new ship that's sitting in the docks?"

Bloodfur nodded, "Aye, that's th' one alright. Apparently they want t' meet with us on Volcano Island t' discuss terms for an alliance."

"So… are yew gonna meet 'em?"

Bloodfur paused for a second before he replied, "Yeah, I decided that we needed t' get t' know our neighbors from the north a bit better anyway."

Hookarm fingered his hook as he asked, "Then should I get my crew ready to depart?"

Bloodfur waved a paw dismissively, "Nah, at least not right now. Though, that does remind me, how many slaves did yew bring me back this time." For a minute the searat's eyes turned hard as stone.

"Ah don't worry, I wouldn't have shown up if I didn't 'ave any slaves." Hookarm replied, "Though these ones did take longer to find than usual. If I had to guess, I'd say around four score slaves in all."

Bloodfur relaxed. "Well, that's a good number of new workers. What species are they?"

"Mostly shrews, but I managed to get a few otters in the mix."

Blue-eye glanced at the corsair. "Were the otters from the Rogue Crew?"

Hookarm nodded. "Aye. What of it?"

"You shouldn't provoke those battle hungry otters. If they went on the warpath it could be a major setback in his highness' plans," Blue-eye said.

"Ha! I wouldn't worry about 'em too much," Hookarm scoffed. "They've apparently been getting' pretty stupid. We just sailed right up to their shores an' attacked one of their holts without 'em showing so much as a whisker."

"Did you ever stop to think if their warriors were even home," Blue-eye asked. "Because it sounds like to me that most of them were gone when you raided them."

Hookarm chuckled at Blue-eye's words. "Well isn't this a dandy, yew tellin' me 'ow t' raid. When's th' last time yew've been on a raid, Blue-eye?"

"I've done my fair share of raiding," Blue-eye countered.

Just as Hookarm was about to reply, Bloodfur interrupted by raising his paws. "Could yew two keep from arguing fer two bloody minutes?"

The two creatures watched in a respectful silence as Bloodfur paced back and forth, muttering to his self, "I guess we could meet 'em on Volcano Island. Though, we'd better bring quite a few beasts, just in case." Glancing at Hookarm, he asked, "Hookarm? Do yew think yew could get th' _Waveworm_ ready fer a voyage by this evening?"

"…I guess so," Hookarm replied.

"Good. I'll be needin' it fer our meetin' with this 'Baro Steelclaws' creature." Shifting his attention to Blue-eye he ordered, "Go tell seven of the other captains t' be ready to leave by this afternoon."

The weasel bowed respectfully before he turned to leave. "It shall be done your majesty."

Bloodfur then turned his attention to his captain of the guard, who so far had been content to keep silent as his king and superiors made their plans. "Bruggor, assemble twenty of my most elite guards, and tell them to be waiting by my ship when I'm prepared to leave."

"Yes sir!" The captain replied. He then went to carry out his lord's wishes.

Bloodfur walked over to one of the windows that overlooked the harbor, he glanced down to the northern ship that stood, waiting patiently for the king's decision.

"It's time to see just what kind of beast this Baro Steelclaws is," The Searat King muttered to himself as he watched clouds drifting aimlessly in the sky.

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VOLCANO ISLAND

It was a little past the late afternoon when Bloodfur's eight corsair ships arrived at Volcano Island. Even though they could only see three ships waiting on the beach, Bloodfur had ordered two of his ships to circle the island to make sure there were no other visible surprises awaiting them.

The searat king took in the scenery as he sat waiting on his ship's bow for the ships he had sent to return. The rocky shore barely showed any sign of recent life on the island, except of course, for the two large tents where Baro Steelclaws and his creatures waited.

Stamping his footpaws on the deck to bring some life back into them, he glanced around the ship.

The _Deathwake_ had been Bloodfur's ship since before he had first become searat king. There had always been something about the massive, dark ship with its three decks that Bloodfur had loved. Maybe it was the fact that even though it was incredibly large for a normal pirate vessel, it would swoop down swiftly like a hawk on it's prey.

"Any sight of the _Whalefin_ or the _Stormgut?"_

Bloodfur turned around to see who had asked him the question, and came face to face with Blue-eye.

"No. Not yet at least," The Searat replied.

They both waited in silence until Bloodfur noticed movement from behind the island.

"There they be," He declared, pointing toward the two pirate vessels making their way slowly to the Spearhead.

"It looks like everything is normal, your majesty. No distress flag or anything of that sort."

"Well I fer one won't even touch that island until I get a report sayin' it's all clear."

The leading ship, the _Stormgut_ , sailed up along-side the _Deathwake_.

"Is everythin' all clear?" Bloodfur called.

"Yes sir! It's all clear!" The _Stormgut_ 's lookout replied.

"Hmp, it had better be," Bloodfur growled. "Ready the longboats!" He called out to the searats who stood at attention on the deck.

Once the crew had prepared the ship's longboats, Bloodfur, Blue-eye, and twenty of the searat king's guards, jumped in and set off for shore.

Bloodfur leapt off the boat the moment it hit sand, quickly followed by the others. Glancing to and fro for any signs of unexpected visitors, they walked up the two, large tents.

There were eight guards standing outside the first tent, and once the group of corsairs walked up to them, one of them, a short, stocky ermine spoke up. "You're th' visitors from Terramort I presume?"

"Aye, that'd be us," Bloodfur replied. "Is yer emperor in that fancy tent?"

"Yes he is. I'll go tell 'im you've arrived." The ermine said, then disappeared into the tent. A moment later, a massive creature walked out. Baro Steelclaws was a large wolverine, covered all over with battle scars. He was dressed in a long white tunic, and clasped to his belt was a massive broadsword.

"You must be King Bloodfur," Baro said, his voice deep and gruff. "I hope your journey was all right."

"Just fine, thank yew," Bloodfur replied. "Now, what is this about a treaty that I've been hearing about?"

The wolverine chuckled. "My, you are to the point, aren't you? But yes, I was hoping to make an alliance with you. We can discuss the details inside, this sun is unbearably hot compared to what I'm used to."

After glancing around suspiciously, Bloodfur nodded.

The wolverine opened the tent fold and declared, "After you."

Once Bloodfur and his group entered the massive tent, Baro let go of the fold and followed them in.

The inside of the tent was quite basic, a long table sat in the center surrounded by wooden stools, and on one end there were two large chairs.

"Now," Bloodfur said, "Could we get down to business?"

"Of course," Baro replied. "So here it is, I believe it would profit both of us greatly if my empire and your kingdom would make an alliance."

"And that would profit me how?" Bloodfur asked.

"Well for one thing, you wouldn't have to worry about any of my ships attacking yours. Second, if either of us got attacked by a woodlander army, all we would have to do is to have one of us send a message to the other and then then they would send help."

"That doesn't sound too bad," Bloodfur remarked. "But why do yew need me in this little deal?"

"Because you have the largest navy and in order for the plan to work, you would have to let our ships through your lines. Will you sign the treaty, Bloodfur?"

Bloodfur scratched his chin for a moment before replying. "Well I don't see why not." He glanced over to Blue-Eyes, who shrugged.

Walking up to the table, Bloodfur grabbed one of the quills that were stacked neatly by the sheet of paper. Dipping the quill into the ink, he signed the treaty.

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 **Author Notes:**

 **Thanks to everyone who has read my story so far. Special thanks to the Grey Coincidence, Firestar the Warrior, and One-eye and all the guests for their reviews. Without you guys, writing would be a lot less enjoyable. (Though I'd probably still write anyway, haha ;)**

 **P.S. please leave a review, I really appreciate positive feedback. Constructive criticism is also welcome.**

 **P.P.S. In case there is any confusion, Baro steelclaws is a wolverine and Ironspear is a wildcat.**


	13. Chapter 12

SALAMANDASTRON

The mountainside of Salamandastron turned to a shadowy grey as fog clouds rolled in from the north.

Lord Rockfur sat staring at the fog from his forge room's window when he heard a light knock on the door.

"Come in, Colonel Brewster."

Brewster poked his head through the door. "I say sah, how'd you bloomin' know it was me?"

"Every hare who reports to me regularly knocks on my door a different way." Rockfur chuckled. "I merely memorize which one belongs to which."

Rockfur started to put away the weapons that he had made the other day. "How is that young badger doing?" He asked casually.

"That's what I came up here to tell you, my lord. Doc said that he should be able to see visitors now."

"I guess I should go and formally welcome him to the mountain then." Rockfur replied. Turning back to the rack of weapons, the badgerlord gave a deep sigh.

"My lord, are you feelin' alright?" Brewster asked, his face full of concern for his badgerlord. "You've been actin' rather strange for the last few days."

Rockfur turned to face the colonel. "I'll be alright, Brewster. It's just that I've been having this feeling lately that not all is as well as we thought."

Brewster gave a low whistle. The colonel had known Rockfur for his whole life, and so far, whenever the badger had a feeling about something, he was normally correct. "Do you think it's those bloody searats?" He asked.

"I'm not sure. I just feel that our days of peace might be over."

They both just stood there in the depressed silence until Brewster loudly cleared his throat. "Eh hem. Well I say, wot. Is there something that we might be able to do to stop it?"

"No. Not that I know of," Rockfur replied. "But enough of this gloomy talk. We should go on and live our lives, and, hopefully, wait and prepare ourselves for whatever fate will throw at us."

"I couldn't flipping well agree more. Wot." Brewster replied. After another long silence (Though this time, a more relaxed one) the colonel started to walked over toward the forge room's door.

"Well that should be everything I came up to tell you about, wot. Though just wondering, are you going to meet that young badger after breakfast?"

"I'll…try." The badgerlord replied. "I need to finish putting away these weapons first, though."

"See you at breakfast the. I guess I'd better make sure those recruits don't eat all the flippin' scoff before you get there, eh wot?" Brewster declared cheerfully.

Shaking his head, the badger chuckled, a smile beginning to form around his lips, "Alright now, get out and let me finish my work."

After the colonel had left, Rockfur's face once again turned solemn.

"Where are you?" He murmered to his self as he stared out of his forge room's window, "How long until you attack my mountain?"

Shaking his head to clear it of the gloomy thoughts, he turned his attention back to the weapons that he had been putting away.

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Once Rockfur had finished with the weapons, he decided to follow Brewster's advice and go visit the young badger. On his way to the mountain's infirmary, he stopped by the kitchens to grab a plate of food in case the injured badger was hungry.

With a plate of food in one paw and a drink of cider in the other, he tried his best to knock on the infirmary door without spilling anything.

Thump Thump!

Silence.

 **Thump Thump!**

"Alright I'm coming, keep your tunic on," An old voice replied, obviously annoyed.

The door creaked open to reveal an elderly grey furred hare dressed in a healer's tunic.

"Oh. It's you, my lord." He said, rather flustered.

"Yes, it's me." The Badgerlord chuckled. "Do you know where the young badger is, Ben?"

Ben nodded. Opening the door, he led Rockfur to the bed where his newest guest lay sleeping.

Setting down the tray on a small table, Rockfur glanced down at the slumbering badger. "Do you know what his name is?" Rockfur asked.

"No, my lord, he didn't say," Old Ben replied.

Rockfur leaned forward as he examined the younger badger.

" _Well, he looks like a strong looking lad,"_ Rockfur mused to his self, _"and he's definitely got the built of a warrior. I wonder how many vermin he took down before they cracked him on the head."_

His thoughts were interrupted as the young badger moved.

"I think he's waking up." Old Ben remarked.

The young badger sat up slowly, glancing from Old Ben to Lord Rockfur, he asked, "Are you Lord Rockfur?"

When the badgerlord nodded, the young one added, "My Mother used to tell me so many stories about you, I almost feel like I know you already."

"That's good to hear," Rockfur chuckled. "Though I'm probably not the mighty looking warrior you'd expected."

"It's not the creature in the fight that counts, my lord. It's the fight in the creature that'll win the day. At least, that's what my Mother used to say."

"Ha, your mother sounds like a very wise creature to me, my friend." Rockfur replied. "Tell me, what's your name?"

"I'm called Urthblaze, my lord, because my eyes go red like fire whenever I fight," Urthblaze replied, his eyes downcast.

Rockfur gave a grim smile as he patted the lad on the shoulder. "I know what you mean, lad. I've had the bloodwrath ever since I was a young one, and so far it's never completely left me." Nodding his head toward the tray of food, he said, "Well, I brought you some food, I hope you feel well enough to eat."

"Oh I feel fine." Urthblaze replied, lowering his voice, he added mischievously, "I think Old ben, just wants somebeast to talk to."

"You know I can blooming hear you, right?" Old Ben called from the other side of the room where he was organizing herbs, "And the only reason I told you to stay was because you should rest."

"Oh, fiddlesticks," Urthblaze replied, "I feel fine."

"Do you think he's ready to go for a quick walk?" Rockfur asked the healer.

"Well apparently he thinks so," Old Ben replied. "Though I guess it'll be fine. Just make sure he doesn't bang his head on anything, wot."

"Thanks," Urthblaze said gratefully. "Don't worry about my head, it's not like I go banging it on anythin' that comes in sight anyway."

"Yes well, most young warriors are normally pretty reckless," Old Ben retorted. "So just take it easy, okay?"

"Okay, if you say so." Hopping out of the bed, Urthblaze stretched himself slowly. "Mmm, that feels good." Turning to Rockfur he asked, "So where are we walking to?"

"Well, first I'd like you to meet some of the other hares in the mountain. Then after that, we might walk along the shore a bit."

They both gave Old Ben their farewells, than they began to walk to the breakfast hall.

Lord Rockfur asked, "So, Urthblaze, do you have any family?"

"No, at least, not anymore," Urthblaze replied rather stiffly.

"I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you." Urthblaze said, " I never knew my father, though mother always talked about him, he apparently was a mighty warrior in the northlands, then one day, he left to fight an army of vermin. He said it would stop the vermin threat once and for all. But he never returned. My mother started wandering, looking for a safe place to stay, till one day, a few seasons back, she died, leaving me in the care of my grandfather."

"And what happened to him?" Lord Rockfur asked gently.

"He…he died trying to safe me from a group of raiders."

"Oh…"

They continued in silence until Urthblaze Turned to the Badgerlord.

"So…Do _you_ have any family?"

"No. In that we are much alike. My family had lived in a cottage many miles northwest of here for as long as I could remember. When my father and my two siblings died in a forest fire, I took up wandering, until one day, I found Salamandastron. I never knew my mother."

They walked the long passageways of Salamandastron. Turning through the winding corridors, they finally reached a large door.

"Here we are," Rockfur declared. Pushing open the door, they entered into the breakfast hall.

There where hares everywhere, from cadets to officers, to cooks and veterans. With massive piles of food stacked on their trays, the mountain hares got right down to business with the most important meal of the day. Though if you asked any hare they would say _every_ meal was the best meal of the day.

"Hey there!"

The two badgers turned to see Private Eric walking toward them, carrying two trays of food, and wearing a grin. "You're up." He declared, pointing with his head to Urthblaze.

"Yes I am," Urthblaze replied. "I'm sorry but have we met?"

"No, it's just you're a pretty popular topic around here, wot. It's not every day a bloomin' badger warrior comes strutting in to Salamandastron."

Urthblaze gave a wry grin. "Well, I don't think I exactly 'strutted in', but I understand why you're all happy to roll out the red carpet for me, since we badgers are somewhat rare."

"You know, I don't think I bally well introduced myself," Eric declared, setting down one of the trays. "The name is Eric. Wot."

"Urthblaze," The young badger replied, shaking Eric's paw.

"Well now that you two have met, there is someone else I'd like you to meet." Scanning the group of hungry hares, Rockfur found who he was looking for.

"Colonel?" he called.

Colonel Brewster (Who had been in a conversation with a tall female hare) turned to Rockfur.

"Yes my lord? Ah, I see our young guest is up and about, eh wot?"

"That he is," The badgerlord replied. "However he's not supposed to do anything that might cause further damage to his head. But I was hoping that you wouldn't mind taking a walk down along the shore with us, unless you're too busy of course."

"Oh pish posh, my lord, say the bally word and I'll follow."

Once the other hare had left, the colonel clapped his paws together. "So… Should I prepare some guards to escort us?"

"I think we'll be fine." Rockfur replied simply. "Now, if we're all ready. Let's be off."

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THE WESTERN SHORE

Just outside of Salamandastron, Sergeant One-ear was leading a squad of ten hares on a patrol.

"Did we have to leave so early?" Charlie grumbled quietly to Amber.

"Yeah, I barely managed to eat any breakfast." Amber agreed.

Ever since the two young cadets had talked with Lord Rockfur, they had been trying extra hard to become the best soldiers the mountain had ever seen. However, their enthusiasm was dying fast as they plodded slowly through the sand.

Charlie whispered, "I can barely see my blinking nose in all this fog, and it's right in front of my face, wot! So why are we parading around the shore like this?"

"Maybe it's because it's supposed t' teaches us discipline," Amber replied, shrugging.

"Hmm…You've got a point there. Though why not teach us discipline after the bally fog clears up, that's what I say."

"Well you'd better watch what you say." Sergeant One-ear said behind them suddenly.

While the two young patrollers had been talking, the sergeant had come up behind them and heard the last snatches of what they had been talking about.

"What would you say to Lord Rockfur if the mountain was ambushed by vermin, eh? Oh, we're sorry sir, we just thought we could skip patrolling because we were tired. Ha, he'd have your ears for such insolence."

"Yes sir, don't worry, we won't complain again sir." Charlie wisely replied.

"Well good."

After the sergeant had returned to the front of the group, Amber whispered, "Good ol' Sergeant One-ear. I think the ol' sour puss is all bark and no bite."

"Well I'd rather not find out." Charlie whispered back. "I hear he has a rack full of all the ears he cut off from all the cadets who were lazy."

"Bah, I think that's just a tall tale." Amber declared.

"Well, why don't you ask him?"

"Oh, er…Because I wouldn't want to trouble the poor sergeant with unnecessary questions," Amber said.

"Sure, I'll bet that the reason." Charlie grinned.

The patrol kept marching in an uneasy silence as they neared a small knot of rocks that loomed out from the cover of the fog.

"After we check these rocks we'll return to Salamandastron." One-ear declared.

The hares started to fan out as they looked for any sign of trouble.

One-ear was perched on a rock, looking for anything out of the ordinary, when suddenly a large white furred weasel appeared from the fog, brandishing a spear.

"Vermin! Eulaliaaaa!" One-ear cried, diving off the rock, he charged the weasel.

Battle cries and screams rang out as the patrol was surrounded by a tide of vermin.

Aiming at the weasel's head, One-ear swung his rapier.

 **Clang!**

Steel bit steel as the hare's rapier met the vermin's metal tipped spear in a shower of sparks.

Moving swiftly, One-ear locked his rapier with weasel's spear so that the vermin couldn't use his weapon properly, then he plunged his dagger into the vermin's throat.

Stepping away from the dead weasel, One-ear glanced around to see how the rest of his patrol was faring.

The hares of the Long Patrol were well known throughout the lands for their skill in battle. However, they appeared to be outnumbered at least five to one as wave after wave of vermin charged out of the fog.

Gazing in horror as he watched one of his hares fall down before him, blood running freely from a blow to the neck, One-ear yelled, "Long Patrol, Retreat! Fall back to Salamandastron!"

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 **AUTHOR NOTES**

 **Once again thank you to all who have read this book so far, I'm honored that you take the time to read it.**

 **Special thanks to The Grey Coincidence, One-eye, Firestar the Warrior, and Redwalllover28, and the numerous guests for your reviews and support.**


	14. Chapter 13

SALAMANDASTRON

Rockfur, Colonel Brewster, and Urthblaze had barely left the mountain when Brewser's ears shot up.

"I say, wot. Do you hear that?"

"You know I don't hear as well as you, Brewster, my ears aren't as big yours." Rockfur chuckled.

Cocking his ears in the direction of the noise, Brewster's face turn from puzzlement to outrage.

"Someone's fighting one of our patrols, sah. I hear them."

Rockfur instantly started barking out orders. "Brewster, run and go get reinforcements. And tell them to grab my sword. Honestly, the one time I'm without my sword vermin have to attack."

Seizing a large log that was lying in the sand, the badgerlord broke it in two. Handing one of the ends to Urthblaze he ordered, "Urthblaze, you come with me."

"Ha, just try stopping me," The young warrior replied, gritting his teeth.

The two badgers charged off in the direction where Brewster had pointed to, while the Colonel hared off toward the mountain.

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Sergeant One-ear gave a painful yelp as a cutlass grazed his left arm. Swinging up his rapier, he sliced open the vermin's leg. He finished of the white-furred ermine with a downward thrust.

"Aaaah!" A voice suddenly cried out from behind the sergeant.

One-ear whirled around to see the cadet Charlie fall to the ground as a white fox knocked him over with a mighty spear thrust.

Dashing over with a speed that only a hare of the Long Patrol could beat, The sergeant slashed through the fox's neck.

The fox merely made a gurgling sound and slowly fell to the ground, never to rise again.

"Come on, laddie buck," The Sergeant said, holding out a paw. "We need to get to the mountain before we all get slaughtered."

After One-ear was sure that the young hare was alright, he quickly glanced around to see how the rest of the patrol was holding out.

Once the hares had heard One-ear calling the retreat, the patrol (or what was left of it anyways) had quickly slashed and smashed their way through the vermin lines. But the vermin were relentless, Eight hares had already fallen to them so far, and One-ear wanted to make sure that nobeast else in his patrol would be added to that number.

One-ear had sent a group of five of the swiftest hares to try and get reinforcements, and now they were already so far ahead that One-ear couldn't see them anymore. Though he knew that might not be too comforting because anything could have happened to them in the thick fog.

One-ear barely managed to block a spear thrust from one of the ermine as he stumbled over a rock.

He felt pain shoot like white fire through his wounded arm as it slammed painfully on a hard rock. Gritting his teeth, he automatically started blocking blows with his rapier, as he struggled to regain his balance.

Suddenly, there was a mighty roar and the ermine who he had been fighting with was suddenly smashed aside with what appeared to be a large log.

"Eulaliaaaaaaaaa!"

One-ear gasped as he saw Rockfur's blood red eyes. The badgerlord wasn't the old, calm wise badger that One-ear had known only a day ago. Now, he was the legendary, battle crazed warrior that had made all vermin who had ever seen him tremble in their boots.

The badgerlord swung his battered log swiftly to his right and One-ear grimaced as he heard the sound of wood meeting flesh as a fox was hit full in the chest by the swinging weapon.

The sergeant suddenly turned to see if any vermin might have tried sneaking up on him while he had been watching Rockfur. Instead, One-ear saw the large shape of Urthblaze tearing through a small group of ermine who immediately took off running when they saw the two battle-hungry badgers.

"Help me!" A voice cried out close beside One-ear. The sergeant's eyes grazed the shore until he saw the shape of a young female hare writhing on the ground in pain.

Dashing up, the sergeant turned the wounded cadet over to see if he could stop the blood from flowing out of the wound. His heart almost stopped as he recognized the hare.

"Alright now, Amber, just hang on. I'll take care of you."

"Father, Is that you?" The cadet asked, squinting he eyes up at One-eye.

The worried sergeant ripped a piece off of one of his sleeves as he replied, "Yes, it's me, Amber. Just hold this cloth right there." He said, indicating where she should hold the cloth.

He anxiously looked around for somebeast who might be able to help his daughter. Seeing a group of hares not far away, he yelled, "Hey! Somebeast call for Doc!" He then turned his attention back to taking care of Amber, as he waited for Doc (the patrol's medic) to arrive.

He didn't have to wait long. Running up,the healer instantly dropped to the injured cadet's side.

"You two," he commanded, pointing to two hares, "Help me take her back to the mountain."

He grabbed One-ear's shoulder as the sergeant tried to follow them.

"I've got her," Doc said. "Now go and take charge of your patrol."

As One-ear opened his mouth to argue, Doc interrupted, "Listen, I'll take good care of her, but how do you think she'll feel if she knew good hares died because you were too busy getting in our way, instead of leading your patrol to safety?"

Realizing the wisdom in his words, One-ear gripped Doc by the shoulder.

"Take good care of her, Doc. Please."

"I will. Now let me do what I do best and then you should go an' do what you do best. Eh wot?"

"Okay." Picking his rapier up with his uninjured hand, he left to gather the rest of his patrol.

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Rockfur had felt the Bloodwrath seize him the moment he had seen a pair of vermin soldiers ganging up on one of his hares.

Charging forward with an unearthly roar, he crushed the two gray rats where they stood with one swipe of his broken log. He then charged off through the foggy battle ground, looking for fresh enemies.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Urthblaze wreaking havoc with his own weapon, a long iron spear that he had picked up from one of the fallen vermin.

His blood red eyes shot in front of him as he caught the sign of large fox charging toward him. He roared with pure fury as the fox's sword managed to graze his arm. Grabbing the fox's blade with one hand, not even feeling the sharp edge, he smashed the vermin's skull with his fist.

Ten gray rats led by an ermine suddenly materialized from the fog before him. He gave a mighty roar and charged, club raised.

The vermin backed off, terror clear in their eyes, as they saw the badgerlord thundering across the sand toward them. One of them, the leading ermine, slunk back and once Rockfur had charged through the rats, the ermine leapt on to the badgerlord's back, slashing and slicing with a long dirk.

Rockfur gritted his teeth as he tried to flip the ermine off his back, however, once his attention shifted to the vermin on his back the group of grey rats tried swamping him.

He gave a beserk cry of pain as one of the rat's blades struck home. His knees started to collapse as the weight of the vermin began pulling him to the ground. His blood red vision starting to go dim, then suddenly, he heard a savage roar as he felt the heavy bodies of the grey rats pulled of him, one by one.

Giving a grunt, he heaved upward with all of his might, tearing through the vermin piled on top of him with his mighty claws, fangs, and just plain brute strength.

As he finally managed to stand up, he came face to face with Urthblaze, the young badger's eyes burned with a furious flame similar to his own. Giving Urthblaze a thankful nod, he grabbed one of the grey rats by the arm and swung him straight into two other vermin.

They both stood there for a second, gasping for breath as their gazes swept over the shore, looking for new enemies. The only vermin that were in sight, however, were the still forms of the dead.

Rockfur noticed that Urthblaze's eyes had changed from the fiery red to a light pink, since it was obvious that there were no more enemies to fight. He also could feel the bloodwrath leaving him slowly, like the winter wind giving into the spring.

Without the bloodwrath coursing through his veins, Rockfur began to feel the pain from his wounds that, until now, had been easy to ignore.

He fell to his knees, gazing up into the morning sky. The fog had finally begun to clear, and the badgerlord could make out sea gulls flying high above them, oblivious so far to the fight that had taken place right beneath them.

"Lord Rockfur!" A voice called out not far from the badgerlord. The voice was quickly followed by the sound of Sergeant One-ear running up with a few other patrollers.

"I say. Are you two okay?"

Rockfur gave a weary glance at the sergeant. "Oh, never better, sergeant. Was that all the vermin?"

"As far as we could see there might be a whole lot more behind the rocks, sir. But we'll need to help escort the wounded back to Salamandastron."

Urthblaze gave the outcrop of rocks a glance that would've burned through a solid anvil. "Lord Rockfur, I think I recognize these savages. They might be the same ones that had ambushed and killed my grandfather not long ago. And as far as I know, they travel in fleets of massive white ships."

"So you mean this might only be the bally beginning," One-ear asked with disbelief.

Urthblaze didn't reply. He just stood there, staring at the rocks, his fingers gripping the handle of his weapon tightly.

"It sure looks that way, One-ear," Rockfur said. Noticing Urthblaze, he walked up to the young warrior and put a comforting paw on his shoulder. "Now listen, lad. I know you want to go over there right now and tear those heartless vermin that killed your grandfather to shreds, but like the sergeant said, we need to get the wounded back to the mountain. You'll get your chance to avenge your loved ones."

Urthblaze let out a sigh. "I guess you're right." And with one last glance toward the rocks, he followed the rest back toward the mountain.

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They ran into the reinforcements led by Colonel Brewster on their way back to the mountain. The troops of fresh hares helped the exhausted warriors by carrying the wounded, and giving them make-shift bandages until they made it to the fortress.

Once they had returned safely inside Salamandastron, Rockfur ordered all the wounded to report to the mountain's infirmary. Then, he called for all the head officers to meet in the main hall.

Rockfur sat at the head of the table. Sitting on either side of him were Colonel Brewster and Sergeant One-ear.

"So… What do we know so far about these new raiders?" Rockfur asked the assembled creatures.

"Well... I think I recognized the grey rats," One-ear said, "They were very similar to the ones that we were ambushed by not long ago, even though, technically, it could have been a different gang."

"Shouldn't you be in the infirmary with the rest, my lord?" Colonel Brewster asked. "You've barely had your wounds checked since you've gotten back."

"Oh balderdash, Colonel," Rockfur replied, waving a dismissive paw. "There are others who need the medical attention far more than I do."

"But you're our master," Brewster countered. "What would we do if you bally well fell over dead from your wounds when we needed you the most, wot?"

"I'm sure you'd do fine." The badgerlord replied. "Now, let's get back to the main topic. What to do about these vermin? Does anybeast have any idea how many vermin we might be dealing with?"

The room went silent as the hares glanced to and fro at each other, hoping that one of them might be able to answer the question.

One-ear raised a paw. "I had gone on a patrol once in the Northlands when we had come across this old crazed rabbit. He was a pretty strange creature (to say the bally least) and one of the things he wouldn't stop babbling about was that he had seen massive armies of white and grey that were powerful enough to cover the Northlands in war. At the time we had just thought it was another one of the poor fellow's ramblings. Because, after all, it was pretty clear that the chap wasn't all right in the head, but now I wonder if he might've been right about 'em. And if he was, that means that there could be quite a few of the flipping cads."

"Then we'll just have to start preparing the mountain for a siege then." Rockfur declared. He rose from his chair and began giving the officers of the Long Patrol their orders. "Colonel Brewster, I want you to double the guards and prepare the troops for battle! Sergeant One-ear, take ten of our best scouts and check the surrounding area and see if the rumors of this massive vermin army is true. Corporal Thistlepaw, tell the cook that we might be under a siege soon and to gather as much food as he can. And tell the new recruits to report to my forge room to select their weapons."

As the badgerlord turned to leave, One-ear came running up.

"My lord, I was wondering if it would be alright if I went alone to scout out for the vermin. Because I don't think five hares would make that much difference in a fight, and the extra numbers would only make it harder to slip in unnoticed."

Rockfur didn't look completely certain that it was a good idea to let the sergeant scout the vermin alone. Finally, after much thought, the badgerlord sighed, "Alright, you may go alone. But be careful."

"Of course, sah," One-ear replied. Before he left, he added with a wink, "After all, you know me. Careful is my middle name. Wot."

Rockfur merely gave the sergeant an amused grunt as he left to prepare his mountain for a siege.

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"I wonder how long we need to guard here?" Charlie asked. "I want to see how Amber is doing."

"I'm sure she's fine," Eric replied. "After all, we've only been up here for roughly ten minutes. Most of the time we have to stay for at least an hour or two."

"Hmp," Charlie grunted as he continued pacing back and forth.

When Colonel Brewster had told the young hare that he was going to be on guard duty, the young cadet had almost flat-out refused, he had said that he needed to watch over Amber until she had gotten better. But then, Amber had declared that she would be perfectly fine, and that he had better do what the colonel said or else she would crawl out of her bed and go do it herself.

So that was why he was pacing impatiently by one of the mountain's windows instead of pacing back and forth in the infirmary.

"Why are the cadets even on bloomin' guard duty anyway," Charlie grumbled. "We never jolly well had to before. Wot."

Eric rolled his eyes. "For the last time, Colonel said that all the green recruits had to start learning real quick how to be proper Long Patrollers, which means that if you weren't guarding then you'd be gathering food, training, or findin' rubble to block any of the entrances with, so relax."

Ha! Easy for you t' say. Your best friend isn't down in th' infirmary with a mortal wound, wot"

"Listen, while I was down there getting you I checked on her and she didn't have a 'mortal wound' as you put it. Why, Ben the healer said she'd be right as rain as long as she gets a lot of rest, and I don't think you pacing back and forth wouldn't be helping her any."

"I suppose," Charlie admitted. "Still, I hope our replacements hurry up and come."

Eric threw his hands up in defeat. "Why did I have to get stuck with you of all hares for a blooming hour of guard duty, wot?"

"I guess you were just lucky," Charlie replied, a ghost of a smile on his face.

Eric scoffed, then turned his head to peer out of the window. He squinted his eyes as he detected movement on the horizon.

"What is it?" Charlie asked once he noticed Eric's expression change.

"I'm not sure."

The two hares gazed out toward the movement, trying their best to decipher what it could be.

"It kinda looks like a cloud." Charlie declared, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to bring moister back to them.

"It's either a very large cloud or…" Eric squinted once again, "It's the dust rising from a marching army." he stepped back from the window and began running. As he ran he called to Charlie from over shoulder, "Whatever it is we'd better tell Lord Rockfur right away."

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 **Author notes**

 **Phew! This is the longest chapter I've written so far, hope you guys liked it.** **Once again, thank you to everyone who've reviewed, and for those of you who haven't, SHAME ON YOU! ;)( Just kidding) Thank you to all of you for taking your time and reading my book. (I hope you'll all enjoy it)**

 **~Sebias of Redwall~**


	15. Chapter 14

CAMP OAKDREY

The shrews had been at the squirrel camp for four days when Grey-eye the healer announced that Flugg was well enough to travel whenever they decided to leave, though he'd have to be careful that he wouldn't put too much strain on his wound or it might start bleeding again.

The squirrels decided to celebrate the good news by throwing together a quick feast. The shrews had realized a while ago that it was the clan's common philosophy that "anything is a good excuse if it means good food," and the shrews were only too happy to agree.

There were nut cakes, cherry pies, almond bread, and a variety of bowls of nuts and fruits.

"I've got to admit," Tragg commented to Flugg, (who was looking considerably better as he shoveled down a plate of nut cake) "These squirrels sure kin make some pretty good food from nuts. How do they not run out of ideas on how to cook all these things?"

Elmblade laughed from the other side of the table where he sat beside Rosebud and Rones.

"Oh, ye know th' ol' saying, 'Where there is a will, there is a way.' Well, we've got the will an' the cooks figure out the way." The young squirrel chuckled as he passed Rones a wooden tankard of Beechnut Beer.

"Thanks, laddie," The white-furred shrew said. Drowning the cup in one long gulp, he thumped it down onto the table.

"Aah... Now that's some good beer," He declared. Pointing to Flugg, he chuckled, "Goodness, sonny! Take it easy there with the food. After seein' ye eat somebeast would suspect that ye were preparing for a twenty-seasoned long famine."

"Mmf, scrunch… Yes well… I had tae make up fer all th' food that ye numpties ate while I was mortally wounded."

Tragg scoffed, "Ha, yeah right. Ye probably 'ad eaten more 'n any o' us considering we all took turns bringing ye food."

Flugg attempted to look casual as he swiped a pawful of berries from Tragg's plate. Before the shrew could react, Flugg had popped them into his mouth.

"'Ey! Those are mine!"

Flugg winked. "Nae, they _used_ to be yers, matey."

Grabbing a plate of strawberry scones, Elmblade passed them to the Tragg. "Here," He said, "Don't let Flugg steal 'em from ye."

"Hmp. You bet I will," Tragg said as he looked around. "Flugg, did ye just steal my drink?"

Flugg looked genially confused as he shook his head. "No."

The young shrew glanced over suspiciously at Elmblade.

"And what about ye, Elmblade, "Tragg asked, "Ye seem tae be chuckling fit tae burst over there."

The squirrel instantly pointed a finger to Rones. "I didn't do it, it must 'ave been Rones."

While the friends all started pointing fingers at each other, Rosebud quietly put the stolen drink onto the top of the table.

The group immediately went silent.

"…I knew it was Rosebud all along," Flugg declared with a wink. "Ye guys were jus' so busy arguin' that ye wouldn't listen tae me."

Tragg quickly downed his drink so nobeast else could "borrow" it. "That's not exactly how I remembered it." He smiled.

The argument probably would have begun all over again if Chief Brushfur hadn't sat down in between the two young shrews.

"So, how's our 'wounded warrior' doing?" he asked Flugg.

Before Flugg could even open his mouth Tragg jumped in. "Oh he's definitely back tae normal alright. (If ye could even call it normal)"

The squirrel chieftain laughed. "I could tell the moment I saw ye two that ye were both very close friends. Though I gotta admit, ye both have a very intriguing friendship."

"Oh, that's jus' because we're cousins, Chief Brushfur," Tragg replied, "And cousins are somethin' that we take very seriously where we come from."

"Well I'm glad ye do." Brushfur replied. Turning to Rones the squirrel chieftain asked, "So ye had told me that sometime after Flugg had gotten better ye were all going tae continue your journey tae Redwall."

"Yeah, that's th' general plan," Rones replied. "Why? Are ye trying tae get rid of us?" He added with a playful wink.

"No, of course not," Brushfur replied, "Ye kin stay as long as ye like, but if ye ever need any vittles or weapons just let me know, and we'll prepare ye plenty by th' time ye feel ready tae leave."

"Well thank ye, Chief Brushfur. We might jus' take ye up on that offer." Rones replied thankfully.

After a while, the squirrel seemed to remember something. "Ye know," He declared to Rones. "If ye're on yer way taeward Mossflower, then that means ye'll 'ave tae pass through th' Black Mountains."

"I'm not sure. I've never been that close tae the border. Why do ye ask?"

"'Cause that's where the moles of Lord Nightwrath the badger live," Brushfur replied, his voice dark and low.

The group fell silent when they heard the way that Brushfur's voice had become hard as steel when he mentioned the name Lord Nightwrath.

"What's wrong with Lord Nightwrath?" Tragg asked. "I thought most moles and badgers were rather good creatures."

"Yeah," Rosebud added, "What did they do that was so terrible?"

Brushfur and Elmblade shot each other a glance. Heaving a sigh, the squirrel chieftain declared, "I guess ye all 'ave a right tae know what ye might be walking into." He grabbed a cup of Nutbeer and took a quick swallow. "Make yourselves comfortable," He said, "And I'll tell ye th' tale of the rift between the mole warriors and the clan of the Macburls.

"Many seasons ago, when I was just a wee lad, mae father was chief of th' clan. Now the squirrel clans of th' Northlands had never really liked the mole tribes that lived in th' Black Mountains. Nobeast never really knew why. But anyway, one day, a badger came up from a distant land. He called himself Lord Nightwrath. The mole warriors immediately pledged allegiance to him. They traveled th' land, wiping out robber bands and putting out as much of the vermin threat as possible."

"Well, he doesn't sound all bad," Rosebud commented.

"Yes, well, everybeast was getting sick an' tired of all th' war and robbery in the Northlands so they were ready tae follow anybeast really. But after a while, when the winter got hard, his soldiers started to collect food taxes from the Northlanders so he could feed his army of moles, which normally wouldn't 'ave been so bad if th' times weren't so hard, but after a while, th' winter got harder 'n' harder, an' th' food taxes got heaver and heaver. Fearing that he was losing th' support of the Northlanders, he retreated back into the Black Mountains and began building underground fortresses.

Things got really bad however, when a score of his warrior moles and a patrol of our squirrels got into a fight when they had run into each other. Nobeast really knows who started it, but th' fight grew so ferocious that only one of our squirrels got out alive tae tell th' tale."

The shrews leaned in closer as Brushfur continued, "My father was furious. Uniting half of the squirrel clans, he set off to avenge our fallen clan mates…"

Brushfur was silent for a minute. "…He never returned," He said finally, "The Clan Elders decided that they wanted tae avoid war with th' moles at all cost, so they made a truce with Lord Nightfur. He would stay in the mountains, and we would stay in th' woods. So they've never come into th' forest, an' we've never crossed the mountains ever since."

The shrews fidgeted with their now empty plates as Brushfur finished the tale.

"Well that was… an enlightening tale," Rones declared. "What happened to th' moles who 'ad fought with th' squirrel patrol in th' first place?"

"Well, Lord Nightwrath declared that they were innocent, but it's rumored that he hurried up and told them to go an' live in Southsward somewhere." Brushfur replied. "Apparently he thought that having some of the same moles around that had helped start th' whole thing wasn't such a good idea."

"Hmm…" Rones leaned back on his chair as he processed the information.

The young ones glanced at each other, wondering if they should say anything to break the uneasy atmosphere.

Rosebud turned toward Tragg and Elmblade. "Well… Should we show Flugg what we've been doing since he's been 'mortally wounded?"

"That's a good idea," Tragg quickly agreed. "Come on, Flugg. Have ye finished yer food?"

"Ye kin never be finished with good vittles," Flugg replied as he tried downing as much of the lovely fare as he could.

"Ye're my kind of shrew, Flugg." Elmblade laughed.

They left the feasting creatures and made their way slowly around Camp Oakdrey. While they walked Tragg tried filling Flugg in what they had been doing while he was bed-ridden.

"Rosebud 'n' Elmblade have been practicing a lot wit' bows over by that ol' beech tree," Tragg declared, pointing to a tree riddled with arrows. "And I must say, I knew Rosebud was good, but she's gotten even better since she's been practicing."

"Ah, that's right," Flugg remarked. "I remember, ye used to practice all th' time. Even when ye were supposed to be 'elpin' with th' cookin' 'n' cleaning."

Tragg pointed a paw toward a clearing near the edge of the camp. "That's where Elmblade 'n' I would practice a bit with hand weapons. Though sometimes, Rones would come out and give us some pointers and hints."

"Who wins most of th' time?" Flugg asked, glancing from Tragg to Elmblade.

Tragg gave a short laugh. "Ha, if I managed to keep th' sword in me paw for more 'n twenty seconds then it would be a new record."

Flugg gave Elmblade a surprised look. "Ye're really that good, eh." He asked.

Elmblade merely shrugged. "I'm probably not _that_ great, they're jus' exaggerating."

Rosebud gave a short cough of disbelief. "He's jus' being modest." She said to Flugg.

"Why don't we show Flugg what ye kin do?" Tragg asked the squirrel. He was hoping that maybe this time the match just might end a bit more favorably for him, because the last time sure didn't.

"If he wants, I guess we could."

Flugg said that he thought it would be an excellent idea. So they went over to the clearing.

Tragg grabbed one of the wooden swords of the rack. He didn't know what kind of wood the squirrel clan used, but whatever it was, it was very heavy and very strong.

He walked into the center of the clearing and waited for Elmblade to pick his weapon. A few by-standers stood by, watching them with interest because Tragg and Elmblade's training session had become a common sight during the last few days.

"Are ye ready?" Elmblade asked as he walked over to face Tragg. The young shrew noticed that he carried the same massive wooden claymore that the squirrel always used.

"I'm ready," He replied, bracing himself for the imminent attack.

He didn't have to wait long.

The squirrel swung his wooden claymore in a series of blows that Tragg was hard-pressed to defend against with his shorter wooden sword.

The 'weapons' clacked and clanked against each other for only a few more blows, when Elmblade twirled his wrist in a fancy move and flicked Tragg's weapon right out of his paw.

The squirrel picked up Tragg's weapon and handed it back. "Ye are getting a lot better," He commented.

"Thanks." Turning to Flugg, the young shrew said, "See?"

Flugg nodded. "Aye, that was some pretty fancy sword work. Would ye mind if I try my luck against ye?" He asked the victorious squirrel.

"Well…I actually need tae practice fightin' more 'n one beast at a time, so would ye mind if yew 'n' Tragg both attacked me?"

The two friends glanced at each other than nodded.

"Aye, that sounds like a plan," Tragg replied. "Pick your weapon, Flugg."

By the time Flugg had selected his weapon, a small crowd of creatures had gathered around the training circle.

"Do think we should wait until everybeast has gone?" Flugg asked Tragg.

Tragg merely laughed, "Oh no, ye numpty, if I kin fight 'n' lose in front of a crowd, so kin yew."

Tragg could tell that Flugg was beginning to have second thoughts about fighting the skilled sword-squirrel. Tragg however, wasn't going to let him get away from it.

"Come on, Flugg," He shouted. "Let's get 'im!"

Tragg leapt forward with a mock growl and swung at Elmblade's head, while Flugg made a strike at the squirrel's stomach.

Elmblade didn't even bat an eye. Swinging his claymore in two swift blows, he blocked Flugg and cracked his sword against Tragg's with a force that made his paw go numb for a second.

Pressing his advantage, the squirrel darted forward and quickly over powered a very surprised Flugg. Then, turning his attention back to Tragg he shot a blow at his shoulder.

Tragg managed to block it, and tried to make a counter-attack of his own, but he never got the chance.

Elmblade locked blades with him, and once again gave his wrist a quick twirl and made Tragg's sword spin into the air.

The crowd clapped, as the three young creatures dusted themselves off.

"What did I tell ye?" Tragg commented to Flugg. "He's jus' modest."

"Well, Elmblade, I'm glad I never have tae fight ye wit' any real weapons," Flugg commented with a grin.

Elmblade picked up the shrew's fallen weapons. Handing them to them, he asked, "No hard feeling?"

"Nope, jus' bruises," Tragg winked back.

"Has Rones tried to fight ye yet?" Flugg asked.

When the squirrel shook his head, Rosebud laughed, "He probably wasn't sure if he would win, so that's why he hasn't fought wit' 'im yet."

"Ye guys are actually a lot better than I had first thought when I met ye," Elmblade said. "I'm really glad ye didn't mind practicing wit' me. I've beaten most of our clan's warriors so many times that they won't practice wit' me even if I begged 'em."

"Humble, aren't we," Rosebud commented with a friendly smirk.

"I try to be," Elmblade replied, trying his best to look serious.

"Speaking of Rones, should we go see if he ate all of th' vittles?" Tragg asked.

"Sure," Flugg agreed eagerly.

"How kin ye even think of vittles after ye ate so much, Flugg?" Rosebud asked, shaking her head in disbelief. "Honestly. Ye must be part hare."

"Och, what a jolly-well good idea, wot."

The group laughed at Flugg's poor attempt at hare-speech.

"Hmp. Well ye numpties should try it. See if yer any better." He grumbled.

"Hey! I've got a great idea!" Tragg declared. "Let's see who kin make it to Rones th' fastest."

"Yeah," Elmblade quickly agreed.

"But ye're a squirrel," Flugg complained. "Ye'll beat us fer sure."

"Not if ye try your best," Elmblade grinned.

Rosebud raised her paw. "Now…we'll run when I say go, alright?… _Readysetgo!_ " And with that, she charged off.

The bewildered trio glanced at each other for a second then they charged off after her, calling as they went.

"Cheater!"

"Ye scoundrel, wait fer us!"

"Ye little slink-eyed toad!"

The group of young creatures got a few raised eyebrows as they charged off in the direction towards the table where they had last seen Rones.

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 **Author Notes**

 **YES! My story has passed 1,000 views. (I'm not sure if it's that amazing, but it's a mile-stone for me) 8D**

 **Thank you for all who have read the story and also to everyone who've been really helpful by giving reviews. (I love getting them)**

 **Let's see who shall be the lucky dog who gives this story its 30** **th** **and 31th review! Yup, you had better get in line folks. ;)**

 **Sighed, ~Sebias of Redwall~**


	16. Chapter 15

NORTHLANDS

The feast was almost finished by the time Tragg, Flugg, Elmblade, and Rosebud ran up to find Rones. The white-furred shrew was talking to the squirrel chieftain with his back to them as the group of young creatures - led by Elmblade- came running up to him.

After he had tapped Rones on the shoulder, Elmblade grinned. "I guess I won the race," He said.

"Well, if we had started the race correctly things might have turned out different," Tragg gasped out. Even though running wasn't his strong suit he still had managed to come in as second place. (Though it had been close between him and Rosebud)

"So…did ye young 'uns want somethin'?" Rones asked, a confused expression on his face.

"No, we were jus' racing," Flugg replied. He leaned over breathlessly as he gasped out. "I don't see why ye fellows like tae run so much. I find it rather over exhausting."

"Well I'm surprised ye kin run at all," Tragg laughed, "After all that food, I'm shocked that ye kin manage anything else besides crawling."

"Ye weren't exactly fasting at th' feast yerself," Flugg retorted with a friendly grin.

"Yeah, I guess that's kinda true," Tragg agreed. He gazed around and noticed that Rones must have been discussing something important with Chief Brushfur before they had interrupted, because the squirrel chieftain stood there with his arms crossed.

"Were we interrupting something?" Elmblade asked his father.

"Not really," Brushfur said. "We were jus' discussing whether or not if it was a good idea for them tae cross the Black Mountains without a patrol to escort them."

"We really wouldn't want tae cause ye any more bother, Brushfur." Rones said. "And from what I hear, it might not be a good idea for ye to provoke Lord Nightwrath and his moles by sending one of your patrols so close tae their mountains."

Brushfur still didn't look convinced, but he heaved a weary sigh, "Alright fine. But make sure that ye'll be extra careful."

"Of course we will." Turning to the young shrews, Rones declared, "Ye young 'uns had better get packed. We'll be leavin' at dawn tomorrow."

'Well _I'm sure gonna miss Elmblade."_ Tragg thought to himself. The young shrew pondered how that even though they had been at Camp Oakdrey for only a few days, the shrews had already bonded very well with Elmblade.

"Well… I guess we should go pack then," Rosebud sighed.

"I guess," Tragg replied. He suddenly brightened up as he added, "Hey, maybe when we're done we could spar with th' swords a bit more."

"Ye're on."

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The next day, the shrews woke up early so they could start their journey before the hot sun was beating down on their backs.

Chief Brushfur and Elmblade joined them as the shrews prepared the last finishing touches to their gear.

"Brushfur, are ye sure that there's nothing we could do tae show our thanks for yer fine 'ospitality?" Rones asked as he shook the squirrel chieftain's paw.

"Actually," Brushfur replied, "Elmblade and I were talking last night, and we were wondering if ye'd be okay wit' Elmblade comin' wit' ye tae visit Redwall Abbey?"

Rones glanced over and noticed that Elmblade was already carrying a pack of gear over his shoulder. The young squirrel had a hopeful smile on his face as he waited to see what Rones would say.

"Hmm… I'd 'ave tae ask th' others," He winked, "Well young 'uns, should we let Elmblade come wit' us?"

"Yes, Uncle Rones." Rosebud replied enthusiastically.

Flugg and Tragg quickly nodded in agreement.

"I guess it's unanimous." Rones declared. "I see ye already have yer gear," He remarked, pointing to the pack that Elmblade was carrying. "I like beasts who are always prepared."

"Thank ye, sir." Elmblade replied, shifting the weight of the pack to his other shoulder.

"Not at all, it'll be our pleasure tae have ye wit' us." Rones replied. Turning to Brushfur he smiled, "Thank ye once again for all o' your 'elp. We really appreciate it."

"Ye're welcome, Rones, If ye ever feel like visiting just pop on in."

The chief then gave his good-bye to Elmblade.

"Take care o' yourself, laddie," He said as he hugged his son. "And try tae be helpful."

"I will, Da."

Brushfur released him and quickly rubbed a paw across his eye. "Alright, ye'd better get going now before it gets hot."

The group waved good-bye to the squirrel chief as they set off on their journey once again.

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When the group finally left the woodlands they entered a massive plain that went out as far as the eye could see to the west and the east. Large, jagged rocks jutted out from the landscape like claws reaching out at the cloudy sky. Even though it was still early spring, the Northland wind was still cold and uninviting as the group of creatures walked across the wide plain. Up ahead, the Black Mountains could be seen, its dark shadow looming over the rocky plain.

"How long do ye think it'll take us tae reach th' mountains, Rones?" Rosebud asked.

The older shrew gave her a wink. "It depends on how fast ye walk, lassie."

Rosebud rolled her eyes skyward. "Ye know what I meant."

Rones chuckled, "Aye, alright. I'm guessing we'll probably reach 'em sometime in the early afternoon. Why do ye ask?"

Rosebud shrugged. "Well, I was wondering if we would 'ave tae spend th' night in the mountains, that's all."

Elmblade, hearing their conversation, walked over closer to them.

"From what I've heard, it probably wouldn't be a good idea tae stay in the same mountains wit' that striped menace an' his warriors." He commented.

Rones gave a sigh. "Aye, that's th' general plan," He replied. "Though I'm not about tae turn tail an' run th' moment we run into any creatures, be they moles or badgers."

"Don't underestimate 'em too much," Elmblade cautioned.

"Oh I'm definitely not trying tae underestimate 'em," Rones replied. "It's jus' that I think that if this Lord Nightwrath fellow want's th' support of the common folk, he probably won't attack anybeast without a good cause. Besides," He added, "I kinda want tae meet this interesting creature who has earned your clan's ire."

Elmblade didn't look too sure if that was a good idea or not, but he didn't disagree with the white shrew. "I guess if ye want," He said, shrugging his shoulders. "Though It might be smart if I didn't talk very much if we run into any of their patrols. I don't think they would like it if they knew that the Macburl clan had sent one of us wit' ye."

"Aye, that might be wise," Rones agreed.

After a while, the group fell silent as they trudged through the wide rocky plain.

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After they had had a short break for lunch, the group continued until they finally reached the base of the Black Mountains.

A few trees were scattered here and there in clusters beside a small stream that trickled out from one of the mountains' few valleys. The valley itself wasn't very large but Elmblade said that it was one of the only valleys that lead all the way from the north side to the south, so it was the one that Rones declared that they would take.

They followed the stream until the valley floor suddenly rose up into a steep cliff. There was a small waterfall that flowed over the top of it that fed the stream that had so far been their guide.

"We'll camp here," Rones suddenly declared, slinging his pack off his shoulders and sitting down on a rock.

The young creatures immediately followed suit and sat down wearily on any large rocks or fallen logs.

"We should get wood for a fire," Tragg declared. He guessed that the others were probably still tired from their journey but he remembered how Broge had once told him that "ye should always finish your work before ye rest" and Tragg knew from experience that it was very good advice.

"Oh, let's jus' wait a bit," Flugg replied as he dipped his sore footpaws in the stream. "It's not like th' firewood will run off or anythin'."

Rones gave his son a raised eye-brow and Flugg immediately stood up. "Okay, come on Tragg, let's go 'n' collect some firewood."

"I'll come wit' ye," Elmblade said, grabbing his claymore.

Elmblade and Flugg followed the stream as the searched for sticks, but Tragg decided to go a bit farther up where there was a cluster of trees.

He had collected an armful of fallen branches when he suddenly thought he heard a sound behind him. He whirled around, trying to see what it was, only to find nothing.

"Great," Tragg mumbled to himself. "Now I'm beginning tae start hearin' things, I _must_ be tired."

He had half-turned to start collecting sticks again when suddenly the back of his head exploded with pain as it was hit by something hard and he felt sharp claws grab him as his vision went black.

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"Does anybeast know where Tragg has gotten to?" Rosebud asked Rones.

The older shrew shook his head.

Rosebud hadn't really started to worry about Tragg until roughly an hour after Elmblade and Flugg had returned to the make-shift camp, their arms full of dried branches. She had thought that maybe Tragg had jus' wanted to take his time and maybe enjoy a stroll in the woods. But after a while, she realized that Tragg would never stay away from the camp this long.

"I think he went a bit up ahead," Elmblade replied. He and Flugg had been practicing with their swords and neither of them had realized that Tragg still hadn't returned.

"Should we go 'n' look for him?" Flugg asked.

"I would actually really appreciate it if ye would," Rosebud replied. "He might jus' be out on a walk but it's not normally like 'im tae be out this long."

"I think I'll go wit' ye, Flugg." Elmblade declared. Turning to Rones he asked, "Would that be alright?"

"Sure." Rones said. "An' if ye find 'im an' ye find out that he had jus' decided tae take an hour long stroll, tell 'im that he kin consider himself on dish duty tonight." He added gruffly. Though the white-furred shrew didn't show it, he was also a bit worried at why Tragg was taking so long to return.

The two young creatures gave a nod to Rones, then started calling out for Tragg.

"Tragg?!"

"Hey, Tragg, where are ye?!"

"Traaaagg?!"

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Tragg awoke to a throbbing head-ache. As he rubbed his forehead with one of his paws he realized that his left paw was tied to a large rock.

Blinking his eyes a few times, he tried to make sense of his situation. He was in the middle of a large cavern underground that had –what appeared to be- tunnels and caves leading off in different directions, creating a maze for anybeast who wasn't familiar with the underground corridors.

"'Ey, Plumtail, Looks like our new slave has decided t' wake up finally."

Tragg glanced over to see a large weasel sharpening a knife not far away from him.

Raising the blade in a mock salute, the weasel said, "Hey there, slave. If ye sit still 'n' keep out o' trouble then ye might get some dinner scraps, if yer lucky."

He turned onto his side as he felt the rope that he was tied to tug in that direction. Looking over, he noticed that he wasn't the only creature tied up. Most of the creatures were shrews, but there were a few hedgehogs and moles were scattered among a mottled little group that numbered around thirty. Most of the shrews appeared to be all in the same family or tribe because they were all dressed the same, and looked very similar to each other.

"I'd keep your head down if I were you, laddie." A voice suddenly declared from the other side of him.

Sitting up, Tragg looked over at the creature who had spoken. It was a gruff looking hedgehog. The jacket he was wearing had obviously seen better days, and the rest of him rather looked like that too.

"My name is Tragg." Tragg said, holding out a friendly paw to the older beast. "What's yours?"

"Dunagan." The hedgehog replied, shaking Tragg's paw. "You're th' new one, aren't you?"

"I…I guess so." Tragg said. "Where am I? How did I get here?"

"You, my friend, are a slave just like us now. These here vermin are band of slavers that've been plaguing this part of the Northlands for a long time. They told us that once they get a few more slaves they'll be takin' us to the Searat King. Apparently, he'll pay 'em a handsome price an' then off we'll go, to become rowin' slaves for th' rest of our short lives."

Tragg glanced around before he replied, "Maybe not."

Dunagan leaned in with interest as Tragg continued, "My friends are somewhere close by, and they wouldn't leave me here wit'out trying their best tae free me."

Dunagan slowly shook his head. "That's what everybeast says when they're first captured. How many are in your group?"

"Excluding me…Four." Tragg replied.

Dunagan rolled his eyes. "Unless they're all badgers with bloodwrath, I doubt they'll be able to help much. There are at least two-score of these vermin, led by a blood-thirsty fox called Bert the Slavemaster, an' he's as ruthless as they come."

The hope that had begun to grow in Tragg's chest died at Dunagan's words. Trying to cheer the old slave up, he said, "Well, Rones –he's my uncle- is pretty smart when it comes tae battle tactics. Maybe he'll try sneakin' a few o' us out one at a time or somethin' like that."

"Just… don't get your hopes too high, lad." Dunagan replied.

Tragg noticed the hedgehog's face turning to one of contempt as he looked at something behind Tragg.

The young shrew turned to see a large fox. The vermin was massive! He wore a plain tunic and carried a long scimitar that he had thrust into his belt made of snakeskin.

' _That must be Bert the Slavemaster.'_ Tragg thought to himself. He watched as the massive fox's hard blue eyes scanned the group of slaves until they finally rested on Tragg. Pointing a mailed paw at the young shrew, the fox ordered, "Plumtail, Grunner! Bring that slave to my tent!"

The two vermin (a weasel and a stoat) untied Tragg from the rock and marched him toward a large tent in the middle of the underground cave.

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 **Author notes**

 **Shout outs to The Grey Coincidence, Firestar the Warrior, Redwalllover 28, Abrahem, and everyone else who have reviewed, read, or favorited this story. I really appreciate it, guys.**

 **~Sebias of Redwall~**


	17. Chapter 16

**Author Notes**

 **Grey Coincidence: Once again you've got some very shrew(d) guesses. (Yes I know, I'm going to steal "shrew(d)" from you** **) Where was I? Oh yes. To tell you the truth I wasn't sure if I wanted Tragg to stay captured or get freed either, but you'll see which one I picked in a few chapters. :D**

 **Firestar the Warrior: You're right, Fire, you'll just have to wait until my next few chapters come out to see what happens. (Unles s of course I told you but that would be spoiling the story)**

 **One-Eye: A tempting idea, but no, Bert the Slavemaster won't have a first mate called Ernie. (That would be pretty funny though)**

 **Abrahem: I'm glad you've enjoyed the story so far. And yes, Sellena is probably what you could call a "vermin good guy" though she is working with a rather shady (or grey) character, so who knows? Unless, of course, The Grey Warlord is good as well, though I guess we'll just have to see, won't we?**

 **Waycaster: Yes I know, you'll all see why I picked Bert as his name soon. (That's an interesting fact fact about Bert meaning bright though, I might just have to use that)**

 **Now, enough babbling, Sebias, let's get this show on the road!**

00000000000000

 **REDWALL**

The abbey was all but bursting with excitement. A large group of visitors from Southsward! What could it possibly mean?

The Abbot Daniel had announced that the brothers and sisters of Redwall should try and let the weary travelers rest without asking them too many questions. However, the abbey-dwellers were only too helpful in making sure the hamsters were comfortable and well fed. And it was just a coincidence if they just "happened" to ask their guests a few questions while they were helping them.

Though at the moment, answers were exactly what the Abbot Daniel was trying to get.

Skipper and Michael the Recorder were sitting in Abbot Daniel's bedroom where Daniel had called a quick meeting. The mouse exclaimed, "What does this all of this mean? A pair of hamsters arrive from Southsward telling us that they wish to stay at our abbey for a bit, then suddenly, a group of three-score creatures also arrive, armed and ready for a war!"

"If I may, Father Daniel, I'd almost say you don't trust these hamsters?" Brother Michael asked.

Daniel led out a tired sigh. "It's just that we have no information at all about these beasts. All we know is that they say they're from Southsward and that they would like to make an alliance between us and this "Grey Warlord" creature."

"I guess we'll just 'ave t' take their word for it," Skipper remarked thoughtfully. "Though, it would've been kinda nice if Scarnose and Goldentail 'ad given us a little bit more of a warning. I hear Friar Peter is going like mad t' prepare more food for th' new guests," The otter chief chuckled.

"Why is Friar Peter worried?" Brother Michael asked. "Our abbey could supply a _lot_ more food then we currently use ourselves. Why, there was one time in our abbey's history where we fed five hundred hares!"

"Oh, you know Friar Peter." Skipper chuckled. "He has t' make sure that all th' food is completely perfect and extra fancy, but it also rather slows down the process."

"Good old Friar Peter." Abbot Daniel smiled, shaking his head.

"Do you want me t' go an' see if our hamster guests want t' meet with us yet, Father Abbot?" Skipper asked.

Daniel scratched his head as he pondered how to reply.

After the hamsters had arrived, they had asked Daniel if he could supply them with some spare bedrooms. The abbot had declared that they would be given some of the best dormitory rooms he could find. (And though he didn't want to admit it, he had picked all of their rooms to be together so that he could keep a careful eye on any of their activities. In case there were any, of course)

"I guess…" Daniel finally replied to Skipper's question. He smiled to himself as he thought, _'Since when did I become such a suspicious creature.'_

"I'd better get going." Michael declared, rising from the chair that he had been sitting on. "I still need to prepare the class' lessons for tomorrow."

"And I'll go check on Mother Mira to see if she would like to join us." Daniel smiled.

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Down by the abbey orchard, Sam the squirrel, Gerardo, and Sebias, were taking care of the Dibbuns. Mother Mira had seemed tired recently and the trio had suggested taking some of the responsibility off her shoulders for a little while. (Though if the three young creatures had known how hard it was to keep a wary eye on all the Dibbuns they might not have been so quick to volunteer)

"Treff! Put that rotten apple down and come back 'ere!" Sebias yelled, chasing an infant hedgehog who was running around with – what appeared to be – an apple that had been rolled over in the mud one too many times.

"But I dun't wanna sit down." Treff wailed as Sebias finally caught up with him, "I wanna throw thi' apple at Volerra."

' _Huh, you and me both,'_ The otter thought to himself. Volerra was an annoying field mouse around fifteen seasons old who always had something negative to say to anybeast she thought lower than herself, which normally consisted of Sebias and Sam. Gerardo on the other paw, she had a secret one-sided crush on, so he never got teased or insulted. (Though the mouse said sometimes that he would prefer it if she would instead of trying to make him like her) Sebias guessed that she probably wasn't all bad, but it was kind of annoying how she could be such an annoying brat one second, and then once one of the friars or sisters were around, she would transfer into such a sweet helpful maid.

Grabbing the hedgehog's paw, Sebias started to lead him back to the orchard. "No you shouldn't do that, Treff, or you'd muck up th' abbey grounds. Why don't you see 'ow far you can chuck it into the pond?"

"Oh alwite," Treff grumbled.

Leaning back as far as he could, the little Dibbun hurled with all of his strength…and made the apple go _plop_ not two feet away from the bank.

Noticing the look on the hedgehog's face, Sebias tried his best not to grin, and said, "That was a pretty good throw yew did there, Treff. (At least for your age)"

"Thanks, Sebias." The little Dibbun then scampered ahead to join his friends who were running around, trying their best to escape Sam and Gerardo.

Some of them (Mostly the baby squirrels) would try climbing the orchard trees, while the rest tried hiding behind the wheelbarrows and bushes, or just plain running around in circles. (The Dibbuns didn't really care since this was one of the best games of tag and hide-and-go-seek they had ever played anyways)

"Get over here, you little rascal!" Sam cried, charging up a tree to grab a one of the Dibbuns who was balancing on one of the branches.

Sebias was almost run over by a crowd of the abbey babes as they ran away from Gerardo.

"Sebias, quick grab some of 'em!" Gerardo gasped as he scooped up two small moles. Looking around hopelessly, the mouse declared, "I don't know how Mother Mira keeps all these little terrors calm but we need to figure out how she does, and fast."

Sebias was suddenly hit with an idea, (literally) as one of the Dibbuns (a vole named Jarro) hit him on the leg with a stick.

"Ouch! I say, watch it there, Jarro." Turning to Sam and Gerardo, Sebias exclaimed, "I've got an idea! Who wants to play a game?!" He called out to the Dibbuns.

The young ones suddenly stopped running around and glanced over suspiciously at the young otter.

"What kind of a game?" Jarro asked.

"A fun game," Sebias said. "I'll be Cluny th' Scourge, and Sam will be my trusty second-in-command. We'll pick half of you to be on our side. We're gonna be the rats who tried taking over th' abbey, and th' rest o' you will be the Redwallers lead by Gerardo, who'll be Matthias the Warrior. So…Who wants to play?"

The youngsters immediately started hopping up and down with glee.

"I'll play!"

"Me too!"

"I call t' be on Gerardo's team!"

"Ho hurr, oi'm be a wantin' t' be one o' th' rat fellers."

Sebias held up both of his paws for silence. "Then go find your weapons and gather around the apple trees. Just make sure you don't get anything too sharp or dangerous. Mother Mira would kill me if one of you got hurt."

As the Dibbuns ran around (Though this time, looking for short sticks) Gerardo walked up to Sebias and said, "That was a pretty smart idea, Sebias. I wonder why I didn't think of that."

"Because I'm obviously the brains of our group," Sebias said, trying to keep a straight face.

Gerardo looked a little skeptical. "Uh huh, sure you are."

"I just had an idea," Sam said as he walked up, "Once we're done playing with th' sticks we can bring them to Friar Peter to use for firewood. That way, we won't have to collect them later whenever the cooks need 'em."

"Good thinkin', Sam," Gerardo replied. "I guess Sebias isn't th' only wise creature after all."

Sam looked over at Sebias and Gerardo with a puzzled expression. "Huh?"

"Oh, it's nothin'," Sebias winked. Gerardo is just being Gerardo."

"Oh." The squirrel said. "…I guess we'd better get over by the apple trees before th' Dibbuns start without us."

They walked over to the cluster of apple trees where the Dibbuns stood brandishing 'weapons' of all shapes and sizes.

After Sebias, and Gerardo had picked their teams the two groups split up, one half defending the trees and the other half, clustering together in a group.

Sebias – the unofficial leader of the attacking Dibbuns, gave a loud cry and gave the signal for his 'army' to charge the Dibbuns defending the apple trees.

"CHARGE!"

Whooping and screaming war cries, the two sides crashed (literally) into each other.

Sebias and Sam quietly snuck out of the 'battle' and joined Gerardo, who was sitting with an amused expression as he watched the Dibbuns.

"What have we started?" The young mouse said, a smile forming on his lips.

"Hopefully, not complete and utter chaos," Sebias replied, as he and Sam both sat down on the grass beside Gerardo. "We'd better make sure that they don't kill each other." He remarked.

"Ha, with those little twigs!" Sam said. "They probably couldn't hurt an ant with those pitiful things, let alone each other."

"I don't know. Treff has a pretty big rake," Gerardo chuckled, "though it looks like he can barely lift it up anyways."

"And what're yew three young uns up to, if I may ask?" An amused voice asked from behind them.

Sebias turned to see Scarnose watching them with an amused expression on his face.

"We've been trying t' keep th' Dibbuns nice 'n' occupied for Mother Mira." Sebias replied.

"Had any luck?"

The young otter glanced over to where the Dibbuns were play-fighting. "Oh…More or less."

"Hey, while I'm here, 'ave any of yew seen Brother Michael?" The hamster asked.

The three young creatures shook their heads.

"Well, I'd better go find 'im. I think we're gonna 'ave a meeting pretty soon with th' Abbot, and we might need to 'ave Brother Michael to record everything."

As the hamster walked off in search of the squirrel, Gerardo turned back to look toward the Dibbuns play-fighting.

"Do you think Mother Mira has rested long enough?" The young mouse asked, "Because I'd like to be there when the meetin' starts."

The other two agreed quickly. Forming the Dibbuns into two ranks, they marched off to see if Friar Peter would quiet the youngsters down with a treat or two.

00000000000000

Once Father Daniel had heard that Grank wished to discuss something, the Abbot immediately called all of the abbey leaders to meet in the Great Hall.

Abbot Daniel was sitting in his large chair at the head of the table, while Skipper, Brother Michael, Foremole, and Mother Mira were sitting on the side, facing Grank, Scarnose, and Goldentail. Grank had declared that the rest of their troop were still resting in the dormitories and weren't vital for the meeting anyway.

"Ambassador Grank, I believe you had something that you wished to tell us?" Daniel asked. His paws folded on top of his lap.

"That I do, Father Abbot." Grank stood up and unrolled a sheet of paper. "Eh hem…His Majesty, King Ironspear, otherwise known as 'The Grey Warlord of Shouthsward', has asked for an alliance with Redwall Abbey. This treaty would consist of pledging never to harm one another, and if Redwall Abbey was ever in need of help, then you could call upon his majesties forces as if they were your own to help defend yourselves."

The abbey-dwellers started to murmur amongst themselves at this statement. Grank paused reading until finally, the Great Hall was silent once again.

"Eh hem. Where was I? Oh yes…This would mean of course this treaty works both ways, so if we were attacked and needed help badly this treaty would allow us access to at least three-score of your warriors. (Though the chances of that would be highly unlikely)"

Skipper raised a paw. "'Ow long would this 'ere treaty last?"

"The treaty says that it's up to you Redwallers to decide. Though once you've decided, you must add it to the treaty so as to not cause confusion."

"Is that all?" Abbot Daniel asked, peering over his spectacles.

Grank appeared to glance down once more at the paper then looked up. "It appears so, Father Abbot."

"Good. So tell me," The old mouse said, "why didn't King Ironspear just come to Mossflower himself to ask us? It seems like he wants this treaty quite a lot so why wouldn't he come?"

The hamster went silent. He obviously hadn't been expecting this answer.

"He had very urgent business elsewhere." He said finally. He fumbled with the sheet of paper as he continued, "He said he would going to try his best to come, but if he wasn't here by the time we got here we were to sign the treaty without him."

"Interesting," The Abbot said, leaning back on his chair. The room once again fell silent as the assembled creatures waited to see what Daniel would say. Finally, the mouse scooted forward on his large chair and said, "I'm sorry, but I won't sign a treaty with someone that I haven't even seen. I apologize if I seem overly suspicious but that's my answer."

Grank's face turned a crimson red as he appeared to go blank for a minute. Then, he cleared his throat and said briskly, "Perfectly understandable, Father Abbot. I don't blame you at all for wanting to be cautious. It just shows that you're a patient leader… But just to clarify, if you met our master would you then sign the treaty?"

"That'ss quite likely," Daniel replied, "It might depend on certain things of course… Though, didn't you say that your king was going to try to arrive sometime soon anyway?"

Grank stood up, Scarnose and Goldentail quickly followed suite.

"Leave it to me, Father, and he just might get here early." Grank replied as he rolled up the sheet of paper. "I'll send a message right away."

"But isn't it rather far for yore hamsters t' walk in time?" Skipper asked. "I'm not good wi' maps 'r anythin' but even I know that Southsward is a pretty good ways away."

"Don't worry, I'll handle the matter personally," Grank replied reassuringly. Turning to the abbot he asked, "Would you mind if we returned to our dormitories now? We have much to discuss."

"By all means," Daniel replied, "Take all the time you need."

"Thank you, Father."

And with that, the three hamsters left.

00000000000000

Later that night, after all the abbey-dwellers had gone to bed, up in the dormitories, a bat fluttered up to the room where the Ambassador Grank was staying, and perched itself on the windowsill.

The hamster creaked open his window and handed a scroll over to the bat. "Make sure this reaches the Grey Warlord at once!" Grank said. "There has been a slight hitch in the plan."

The bat gave a quick nod, then hopped off the windowsill and flew off, disappeared into the night.

00000000000000

 _Footnote: Shout outs to The Grey Coincidence, Abrahem, Waycaster, One-Eye the Wildcat, Firestar the Warrior, Redwalllover 28, Felicity Bogowit, and the numerous guests for reading, reviewing, Fav/Following, or giving advice.I really appreciate it everyone._ ~Sebias of Redwall~


	18. Chapter 17

**Author Notes**

 **Grey Coincidence: I've wanted to introduce bats into my fanfic for a long time so I was happy when I finally could put them in this chapter. The baby-sitting scene was basically for character development. (Sebias, Sam, and Gerardo hadn't been getting very much of that, so)**

 **Yet another very shrew(d) guess about The Grey Warlord. I'll not say which is correct because that would be taking all the fun out of it. :P**

 **I hope you don't mind if I took a few leaves out of your book. Hopefully you'll take it as a compliment if I do because a really like your style of writing.**

 **Waycaster: The Grey Warlord will probably be a pretty shady character for most of the book. Thus his intentions for the abbey will probably be pretty shady too.**

 **Guest: I'm not sure if you're Abrahem or not but I'll answer you anyway.** **Waycaster found the meaning for Bert so I guess I should give credit where credit is due. I'm glad you've liked the story so far!**

 **Abrahem: Shrew(d) guess there, Abrahem. Time shall tell.**

00000000000000

 **SALAMANDASTRON**

The sun was shining down brightly on the mountain fortress as Lord Rockfur, Colonel Brewster, One-Ear and the other Long Patrol officers came running up to the look out windows to see who exactly was marching toward the mountain.

The Badgerlord and his hares definitely didn't have to look very far to see the innumerable army of vermin marching in organized ranks toward Salamandastron.

 _Hmm…quite a lot of the flipping cads,_ Colonel Brewster thought to himself. Peering closer he noticed that the bulk of the army were white furred ermine and foxes mixed with companies of large grey rats.

"They sure look like they mean business. Wot." One-Eye declared calmly, echoing Brewster's thoughts. "'Ow many of the bally vermin would you say there are?"

Despite the graveness of the situation, Lord Rockfur gave an amused chuckle, "Calm as ever, eh One-Ear." The Badgerlord turned back toward the approaching army. "If I had to guess…I'd say there are at the very least, a few thousand of 'em."

The group fell into a shocked silence at Rockfur's estimated guess.

"But we've only got less than seven hundred hares," Brewster managed to choke out, "and most of them are wet-behind-the-ear recruits."

"I don't think they'll be wet-behind-the-ears before long," One-Ear commented grimly, his face as hard as rock.

 _This is a disaster,_ Brewster inwardly groaned, _We won't stand a chance!_

The colonel eyes instantly shot to Rockfur as the Badgerlord suddenly started to boom out orders, "Seal all the entrances! One-Ear, get all the archers ready by the windows! Don't shoot unless the vermin get too close! The rest of you prepare the troops for battle!"

As Brewster started to leave with the others, Rockfur raised a paw. "Colonel, would you mind staying here for a minute?"

The old hare immediately ran back toward the Badgerlord, the monocle that he wore bouncing off and swinging to and fro from his jacket like branch caught in a wild wind.

"Oh course, sah. What do you want?"

Rockfur's brown eyes glanced around to make sure nobeast was listening. Once he was sure, he leaned over toward Brewster and whispered, "Do you think the new recruits will be ready for this kind of a battle?"

' _I doubt anybeast of any kind is ever truly ready for a battle like this',_ Brewster thought. Aloud, he said, "I'm not sure, sah. If we had more time I might be able to shape them up a bit better, wot wot."

"I'm afraid we might not have time, Colonel." Rockfur replied. "Just try your best and hopefully we won't need them to be in the bulk of the fighting."

"Alright, my lord," Brewster said, giving a quick salute. The hare pointed out toward the vermin as he asked, "Do you think there's any chance that the vermin might be just passing by, or at the very least just trying to intimidate us, wot?"

Rockfur's eyes glanced over at the Colonel with a look of one who knew something that normal beasts couldn't possibly know. "No. I'm afraid not, Colonel." The Badgerlord finally sighed. "A dark shadow of doom has long been creeping in the back of my mind. I have been sensing that the horror of war wasn't too far from our shores for a while now, but I had tried my best to remain hopeful. I'm afraid that this seems to prove my suspicions correct though."

It was as if a winter wind had blown its way into Brewster's chest and gripped his heart when he heard these words. But the old colonel tried his best to shrug it off and remarked, "I guess if it's a war that they want, then that's what we'll bloody well give 'em, eh wot?"

Rockfur tried his best to give a small smile in agreement, but Brewster had known the Badgerlord too long and knew that Lord Rockfur was only trying to put on a brave face for his sake.

"Of course we will." The badger voice rumbled cheerfully.

"If that's all," Brewster said as he started to walk slowly toward the door, "I should probably see to th' bally troops now. Wot."

"Yes, of course."

After the Colonel had left, Lord Rockfur turned once again toward the marching army of vermin on the horizon.

"I'm afraid it'll always be my destiny to know things about the future that I would never have chosen to know if it were up to me. Alas, such is the life of a Badgerlord." Rockfur mumbled aloud to himself. Then, he too left lookout post and started the long walk to the Armory.

00000000000000

Down in the mountain's cellars, some of the younger recruits – who were still completely unaware of the vermin army marching toward their home – had been ordered to move large barrels of water up to the kitchens were the Head Cook was taking an inventory of all the food and water.

"Would you move your bloody tail 'n' 'elp me roll this flamin' barrel, Lagworth?!" Charlie asked rather hotly as beads of sweat trickled down his nose. "I've already done half of these myself, wot! And you've just been sittin' there!"

"Why would I do that?" Lagworth replied mockingly. "You're already doing such a fine job, at least for a spoiled son of a Colonel."

Lagworth was a large black and grey furred buck. He was bigger than most cadets. If fact, he was bigger than most full grown hares! Lagworth, however, didn't exactly use his big size for mere work. Instead, he was rather like the bully for the younger cadets. (Though, of course, Lagworth wouldn't call himself a bully exactly. Just the unofficial mountain's "Discipline Master" for all the new or unexperienced cadets)

"Maybe you should run to your papa the Colonel," Lagworth taunted. "He might make us _real_ warriors do all the work for spoiled babies like you if you'd ask nice enough."

' _I guess being the son of a Colonel does have its bloody perks. Wot.'_ Charlie thought to himself as he tried to ignore the bully. _'I shouldn't have even bothered asking that lazy brute!'_

As the young hare continued pushing the heavy barrel of water up the slanted tunnel, Lagworth deftly reached out a footpaw and tripped Charlie, who gave a startled yelp as the barrel started to roll back down the tunnel.

Jumping up, Charlie dove after it and just managed to grab it right before the water cast started picking up speed.

"Woops." Lagworth winked. "You should really watch where you put your footpaws next time, Charlie."

Charlie merely gritted his teeth and started to push the cast up the tunnel once again. _'That fish-breathed idiot had better watch it or I just might put some frozen worms in his bead tonight!'_

When they finally reached the kitchen doors, Lagworth immediately helped to push the barrel in the rest of the way.

"He's sure a sneaky blighter I'll give 'im that," Charlie hissed to his self under his breath.

Once they had rolled the cast of water into the kitchens, Lagworth immediately started to wipe his brow with his paw like he was sweating from doing hard work. "Phew! Do you mind if I have a spiffing glass of water, Master Cook?"

The Head Cook looked up at the towering cadet. "Sure you can. Just don't expect me to serve it t' you on my knees! Go get it yourself!" To himself he grumbled, "Honestly, youngsters these days!"

As Lagworth grabbed a wooden cup from one of the cupboards he filled it up with water, Charlie noticed a bag of Hotroot pepper lying nearby (A gift from the Rogue Crew otters) and saw his chance to get even with Lagworth for his bullying ways. After he asked the Head Cook for a wooden cup he "liberated" a small bottle of berry cordial that was sitting all alone on the counter. Then, after secretly pouring some of it into the cup, he added a healthy spoonful of the Hotroot pepper into it. (Or maybe two or three spoonfuls)

"Pst, Lagworth!" Charlie whispered. "If you'll move th' rest of th' water barrels for me I'll give you this refreshing berry cordial."

Lagworth's eyes bulged open comically with surprise. Berry cordial was a very popular drink with the young cadets who weren't old enough to drink real wine. Unfortunately, it was normally reserved for feasts or special occasions, so Lagworth was surprised that Charlie would be so willing to give it away.

Lagworth grinned inwardly. Why not just drink the cordial and then make Charlie do the work anyway?

"Sure, Charlie."

Grabbing the cup, Lagworth downed it with one huge _gulp_.

Lagworth's eyes practically jumped out of his head and started to turn red. Coughing, the bully ran to the open cast of water and plunged his head in, drinking the cool liquid in large quantities.

"Get your dirty face out of there now!" The Head Cook roared, grabbing Lagworth by the ears. "Don't you know that we'll 'ave to save that flippin' water in case of a siege!?"

"It was his bloody fault, not mine!" Lagworth shouted, pointing over to where Charlie had been sitting.

"Whose?!"

Lagworth glanced around. Charlie was nowhere to be seen.

"You've got some serious explaining t' do, young feller," The Head Cook growled, grabbing Lagworth and started to haul him out of the kitchen. "Colonel Brewster is gonna t' jolly well hear about this, wot!"

Disregarding Lagworth's protests, the grouchy cook marched him right out and slammed the door behind them with a loud _boom!_

Charlie poked his head out from where he had been hiding behind a sack of potatoes and asked one of the kitchen assistants; a plump fellow called Harry. "Are they gone?"

"I'll say they did. Sure wouldn't want t' be that bloomin' cadet, though. No sirree. Wot."

Charlie stealthily returned the berry cordial where he found it on the counter as he walked out of the kitchens. He didn't hear the hare around the corner until he bumped into him!

"Oof! I say, watch it there, sonny." Colonel Brewster exclaimed. Then, noticing that the young buck was his son, he added, "Charlie? What 're you jolly-well doing in the kitchens, eh?"

"Just moving water barrels, Father."

Brewster rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm…Well let the other kitchen assistants 'elp with that. Go report to Sergeant One-Ear with the other cadets. Wot wot"

Charlie saluted smartly. "Yes sir." Raising his paw he asked, "I have a question though. Why are we reporting to Sergeant One-Ear? Isn't he the official Blade-Master of Salamandastron?"

"Because there's a whole flippin' army of white-furred vermin outside our gates," Brewster replied, "So find all the other cadets you can find an' tell them to go with you. Hurry!"

As Charlie swiftly ran up the long tunnel, Colonel Brewster smiled with pride as he watched his son depart. _'Charlie is sure growing a fine boy."_ He thought to himself. _'He must take after me."_

The old hare then turned to the kitchens to tell them about the vermin army marching on their mountain.

00000000000000

 **SHARKSTORM**

Not far from the mountain, Emperor Baro Steelclaw stood on the deck of his personal ship; The _Sharkstorm_. The massive ship's sides were the color of stained white, and a large steel spike jutted out from the front of the vessel.

The front of the bow was carved to where it roughly resembled the head of a shark, thus its name; the _Sharkstorm._

"Are yew sure it was a wise idea t' drop yer soldiers off so far away from th' mountain?" A gruff voice asked behind the wolverine king.

Baro gave a long sigh. "Yes, Captain Hookarm, I do. We need the soldiers to sweep the area to make sure that no messengers can escape an' alert their allies."

After the treaty had been sighed between the Land of Snow and Ice and Terramort, Baro Steelclaw had asked King Bloodfur if he would help him capture the legendary mountain fortress of Salamandastron. At first the searat king thought the idea ridiculous, but after a while, Baro managed to convince him that the odds would be completely in their favor if Bloodfur would send a thousand of his corsairs and their his ships to carry the wolverine's mighty armies.

Bloodfur, however, didn't want to lead his forces himself. Instead, he sent his ambassador Blue-Eyes and Captain Hookarm to lead them.

"If yer armies are as powerful as yew say, then why didn't yew just send them in a frontal assault an' take the fortress by force?" Hookarm asked.

Baro's large claws dug into the railing that he was grabbing as he slowly started to lose patience with the corsair captain.

"Because," He growled, "I choose to keep my army large by using my brains."

Hookarm shot the wolverine a glare. "Well if yew're so wise, why didn't yew find some different ships t' carry yer soldiers?"

Baro couldn't resist a smirk. "Because, _captain,_ it wasn't up to you to decide whether or not if the searat kingdom would help."

"Careful there," Hookarm grinned wickedly, "or I jus' might tell King Bloodfur that yew've been insulting 'is most trusted captain."

"What are you both bleating about this time?"

The two arguing creatures turned to see Blue-Eyes standing there, watching them with an amused expression.

"You too haven't stopped arguing since we first left Terramort." The weasel laughed.

Baro merely huffed and turned back to inspecting the shore. Out of the two ambassadors Bloodfur had sent, Baro respected Blue-Eyes more. The weasel was a clever creature, and since loyalty to his king seemed to always be first in his mind, that meant that Baro wouldn't have to worry about him trying to foul up this operation with stupidity. Unless of course Bloodfur had ordered him to, but if that happened, Baro would have bigger problems on his paws anyway.

"So, Blue-Eyes, will the searats be ready to land the ships by midday?" Baro asked, clearly trying to change the subject.

Before the weasel could even open his mouth, Hookarm butted in, "Aye, they'll be ready. Don't yew worry."

Baro nodded his head then walked into his cabin.

Once the wolverine had left, Blue-Eyes turned to Hookarm and scowled, "Why do you always try and start an argument with him? Don't you realize that this alliance is one of the best things that has happened to the corsairs since King Bloodfur had his first-born son!"

"Ah, now don't worry yer whiskers off." Hookarm said, a dangerous glint flashed in his eyes as he rubbed his paw against his dangerous hook. "And yew should never assume I'm stupid. I know 'ow important this 'ere mission is t' our beloved king, and I means t' carry it through."

With that, the corsair captain spun around and walked off.


	19. Chapter 18

**Author notes**

 **Grey Coincidence: You've got some more very shrew(d) guesses there, Grey. Though I'll tackle 'em one by one.**

 **I've got to admit that I do 'sometimes' like to kill off a few of the characters that aren't really important plot-wise just to imagine the expressions of my readers. (You might've nailed it when you said I was a rather blood-thirsty author ;)**

 **Yes, it does seem like Hookarm and Emperor Baro didn't get off to such a smashing good start. We'll see if that affects the story later on. Though Hookarm isn't really the king or anybeast too important so who knows, Baro might decide to bump him off instead, or they both just might just learn how to get along. (Whick wouldn't be that great for Salamandastron)**

 **Yeah, I picked the name Lagworth because the reader might get a faint idea of why Lagworth is the way he is. (Though that's not really much of an excuse I guess)**

 **Favoritism…hmm, well the Colonel wasn't exactly present at the whole incident so he probably still has no idea what was going on. (Though I guess that means the Head Chef will probably be looking for Brewster for a while)** _ **:P**_

 **Waycaster: Yes that's true. If there's a war it seems like Salamandastron always seems to manage wiggling its way into it. As for your guess about the Grey Warlords motives, well, you might not be far off, but of course, he might make your opinion change. Who knows? (Besides me of course ;)**

 **Abrahem: Well, like you said it was a joke, though he might, I guess we'll have to see!**

 **Firestar the Warrior: I hope so, but like Grey said, I might kill them all off before they have a chance to have character development. Just kidding. ;)**

 **Haha! Yeah, I agree, Hotroot pepper has once again preserved the justice. ;)**

 **Phew! Now, onto the chapter!**

 **NORTHLANDS**

As the two vermin marched Tragg to the large tent's entrance, they suddenly each tightened their grip on his arms and stopped him from entering.

"Let yer superiors enter first, slave." One of the vermin – a large weasel weasel – scowled, nodding his head toward Bert the Slavemaster. As the vermin leader walked through the entrance, Tragg marveled at how incredibly _huge_ Bert was. If Tragg had ever seen a badger before he would know that Bert was at least a head or two taller than even the biggest badger. But Tragg had never seen a badger before, so he had nothing to compare him to.

Once Bert had entered, the two guards relaxed their hold on his arms and shoved him into the tent.

Tragg glanced around in wonder. The tent had seemed huge from the outside, but the young shrew could see that it was much bigger than he had first thought. Large wooden beams kept the heavy canvass in place, passage ways jutted off and Tragg could only assume that they led to other tents.

"Impressive, isn't it?"

Tragg's eyes quickly darted back to the vermin leader. While the young shrew had been glancing around in wonder, Bert had slid quietly behind a very large desk and took his seat, studying Tragg with his sharp blue eyes.

"Aye, it's pretty nice." Tragg replied, looking around the tent once again. "How many woodlanders did ye kill tae get it, though?" The young shrew hoped he didn't appear to be too defiant or the vermin might just decide to kill him, instead of waiting for him to cause trouble later on.

He felt the butt of a spear hit him roughly on the back as one of the guards growled, "Be respectful an' call 'im sir, yew good fer nothin' slave, or I'll gut yew with me spear!"

Tragg merely stared ahead boldly at Bert.

Bert raised an eye-brow. His eyes never left Tragg as he said, "So, I'm guessing you're wondering why you're here."

"Probably because some toad-faced fox and his vermin decided tae capture me."

As one of the guards lifted their spears to hit the insolent shrew, Bert waved a paw dismissively. "Leave him be, Grunner, at least for now. It's not every day a new slave comes in with enough grit to insult the very one who holds his fate in his paws."

Focusing once again on the young shrew, he added, "Oh, and by the way. I'm not a fox. I'm actually a wolf from the Land of Snow and Ice. Don't worry, many woodlanders have made the same mistake as well. Though personally I don't see how one could confuse something as pathetic as a fox with a creature like a wolf." He paused, waiting for Tragg to comment.

When the young shrew didn't say anything, the wolf declared, "You know, you remind me of someone that I fought long ago. A very clever shrew he was. He rallied a band of creatures to fight me, in fact, thanks to him, they almost managed to win against my slaver bands."

Tragg couldn't help but ask, "What happened?"

"Oh, I finally outsmarted him. Pity though, I love a good adversary. I find so few of them."

' _Could that have been Broge?"_ Tragg wondered, feeling a flash of pain as he thought of his dead father, _"I'd better not tell Bert that I might be related to one of his old enemies!"_ He decided. So he tried to change the subject by asking, "Why're ye called Bert o' all names? I'd o' thought a creature like ye would never want a name like that."

If Tragg had been hoping to faze Bert, he was mistaken. The wolf merely chuckled, "Yes…Bert is a rather odd name for such a powerful beast of my status, isn't it? Well to tell you the truth, I had hated the name as a young one. I was – believe it or not – rather small for a wolf, and having the name Bertvar wasn't very helpful. I used to always get into fights when somebeast called me Bert because I didn't want to seem weak. But guess what?"

Tragg shrugged his shoulders. "What?"

"Since everybeast had picked on me because of my pathetic nickname I had to work and fight twice as hard as all th' other beasts my age. And over the seasons, I learned that it doesn't matter what you're called as long as you can get others to fear you."

"So ye decided tae capture slaves jus' so somebeast could fear ye?" Tragg asked scornfully.

"Not at all," The wolf replied, "I'm only in the slave trading business because this is where I get the most profit. If slaving didn't pay much then I'd become a mercenary or something else."

"So…ye would return all th' woodlanders tae their homes if their kin could pay a ransom for them?" Tragg asked trying to appear that wasn't that concerned.

Bert eyed him suspiciously. "Of course, why? Do you have some kin who'd pay handsomely for your return?"

Tragg opened his mouth to reply when he stopped to think for a moment. If he told the Slaver that he had friends not far from here, the wolf might just decide to try and capture them and sell them as slaves as well. So instead, the young shrew replied, "I might know where tae find somebeasts who'll pay a lot tae 'ave me freed."

Bert the Slavemaster chuckled, "Now that was a guarded answer if I ever heard one." He leaned on the back of his chair and asked, "Let's say you have friends who'd pay to have you released. What would they pay? Gold, jewels, supplies?"

Seeing Tragg hesitate, the wolf slowly shook his head. "You know what I think? I think you don't have any friends to help you. Or if you did, they have nothing of value, because I've captured a lot of creatures in my time and they all try convincing me that their kin would pay me handsomely for their release. I learned the hard way that they are very rarely where telling the truth."

' _Well this vermin sure knows his way around,'_ Tragg thought to himself. Any hope he had of fooling the wolf had been crushed.

Seeing that Tragg had nothing further to say, Bert nodded to the two guards. "Grunner, Plumtail, take this slave and chain him with the rest of them."

As he was led out of the tent by the weasel and stoat, Tragg mused to himself, _'Escaping from here is going to be even harder than I thought! I hope you have a plan, Rones.'_

00000000000000

 **SHREWS' CAMP**

After a very long and unfruitful search, Rones finally managed to convince Rosebud, Flugg, and Elmblade to come back to the camp to rest for a while and to think of a plan before they went off charging into the woods.

"We should go out again right now." Rosebud complained, after finally finished pacing as much as her short tired legs could go, "He wouldn't 'ave wanted tae stop lookin' for me if _I_ was in trouble."

"I want tae look for him jus' as much as ye do, Rosebud," Rones replied, "But Tragg wouldn't 'ave wanted all o' us tae go crashin' through this valley shoutin' for him wit'out some sort o' a plan."

"But what exactly is th' plan?" Elmblade asked from where he was sitting as he sharpened his claymore.

"I don't know yet," Rones replied, "Any suggestions?"

As Rosebud opened her mouth to reply, Rones quickly added, "And by suggestions, I don't mean charging off into unknown territory screamin' our lungs out."

Rosebud quickly closed her mouth.

Flugg suddenly walked up to where they were sitting, and whispered quietly, "Now nobeast look around, but while I was fetching water I saw somebeast – or somebeast _s_ – spying on us."

"Where are they?" Rones whispered back, while the others tried to look as casual as possible.

"By those tall bushes over tae our left."

Rones leaned back and pretended to give a tired stretch while he whispered out of the side of his mouth, "Alright now, when I give th' signal, we're gonna charge th' scoundrels. Rose, I want ye tae see if ye kin reach your bow 'n' give us some cover. Elmblade, ye circle to th' right while-… Elmblade?"

They glanced around to see that the young squirrel had disappeared.

Suddenly, they heard a gruff cry of surprise and they spun around to see Elmblade and another creature crashing through the bushes as the spy tried to escape.

"Oh no ye don't!" Flugg yelled as he bolted off toward the two fighting beasts, "What 'ave ye done wit' Tragg, ye lousy vermin?!"

The young shrew ran up behind the short creature that was wrestling Elmblade and thumped both of his paws down hard on the back of its head. The beast jerked up then slowly flopped over onto its side completely knocked unconscious. Flugg had been the clan's wrestling champion for a reason.

"Ye rock-headed squirrel," Rones lectured gruffly as he and Rosebud ran up, "don't ye realize that ye could've been killed?!"

Elmblade merely stood up and dusted off the dirt from his kilt. "I 'ad it completely under control, Rones," He replied, "Though I should probably ask ye next time."

"Ye'd better believe it!" Rones scowled, "'Ow am I supposed tae make sure any more o' ye don't get hurt when ye go running off tae-"

"Hey," Flugg interrupted as he flipped the unconscious creature over, "this isn't a vermin! It's a mole!"

"Well I'll be." Rones declared. "That _is_ a mole, or I'm a three-eyed 'awk!"

The mole was dressed in a brown leather tunic, and wore a shirt of chainmail that looked like it had been fashioned by a very skilled smith.

"Do ye think it's one of those moles that Chief Brushfur had told us about?" Rosebud asked.

"Excuse me, but I believe ye jus' attacked one o' mae father's scouts."

The group whirled around to see a female badger looking at them with a half amused glance.

She was wearing a simple green tunic and on her paws were two large, blood-red gauntlets. The young badger also carried a large haversack, and had a long, two-handed sword that looked at least three times as long as Rones strapped to her back.

"My name is Beth Redpaw, daughter o' Lord Nightwrath." She said, setting down her haversack. "An' I presume ye all 'ave a very good reason for knocking out poor Axburr." Her voice hardened slightly as she said the last part.

"We didn't realize that he was a mole," Rones replied, "and we certainly didn't know that he was one o' Lord Nightwrath's creatures. Though ye must understand, we are in strange territory an' when we found out we were being spied on we decided t' act first then ask questions later."

Beth glanced over at the still unconscious Axburr. "So I see."

"Jus' wait a second," Elmblade said, "why were we being spied on in th' first place? Can't honest creatures travel anywhere wit'out being spied upon!"

"Well we try to keep the creatures in this valley safe by posting guards, but I don't think Axburr was even on guard duty."

"Why is that?" Flugg asked.

Beth was silent for a minute, then said, "Because mae father 'n' I had an…argument, an' I finally decided to leave an' t' take up wandering for a few seasons. Though I'm guessing my father sent Axburr tae make sure I didn't get intae too much trouble."

"I doubt any vermin would want tae bother ye, lassie," Rones declared, pointing to her massive sword, "and any who did want tae cause trouble would probably regret it."

Beth smiled. "Aye, they probably would."

"Have ye seen a young shrew by th' name o' Tragg," Rosebud asked hopefully. "He went out tae fetch firewood an' now he's been missin' since midday!"

Beth Redpaw nodded knowingly. "I don't know where he is, but I do know that there've been a few gangs of slavers roamin' around in this area for a while now. They might've caught 'im, though that's jus' a guess."

"Do ye 'ave any idea where these slavers might keep their slaves?" Rosebud asked.

The badger chuckled. "If we did, mae father would've wiped them out a long time ago."

Suddenly, the unconscious mole started to groan as he sat up slowly, holding the back of his head with his two mighty digger claws. "Mio goodness, what 'appened t' mio 'ead," He groaned. "It feels liok somebeast be a poundin' on it with an 'ammer. Ooh."

Beth leaned down and inspected the dark bruise on the back of Axburr's head. "Ye'll live." She said simply.

Grabbing her haversack, she turned once more to Rones. "I 'ope ye find your friend, but I'll need tae leave in case mae father sends more warriors tae follow me."

As she started to walk off, Flugg jumped forward and tried blocking her path. (Which was rather hard considering she was three times as tall as him) "Wait, ye can't jus' leave! Who else will 'elp us free Tragg from those vermin if he is captured?"

Beth pointed a mailed paw at Axburr. "Ask 'im. He'll bring ye tae mae father."

The mole stood up and planted his feet firmly into the ground. "Oi ain't leavin' ee, missy. You'm father said tae follow ee, and that's what oi'm gonna do."

"But what would mae father say if ye let strangers wander through the Black Mountains wit'out a guide? 'Ow would ye feel if they got captured by slavers, or got eaten by a snake?"

The mole looked like he didn't know what to say. But before he could think of a reply, Beth continued, "An' besides, I know these mountains better then anybeast else – aside from mae father – so if I wanted, I could make sure ye couldn't find mae trail."

Axburr opened his mouth to abject, the thought better of it. "Alright miz, but Lord Nightwrath isn't going t' be please, boi gum."

The young badger waved a paw dismissively. "Ah, mae father knows I kin take care o' maeself. Now hurry an' find these beasts' young friend before it's too late."

Waving a paw, she disappeared into the forest.

They stood there and waved back in good-bye until they couldn't see her any more.

Elmblade turned to Axburr. "So… Would ye mind takin' us tae Lord Nightwrath?"

Axburr looked at the warrior squirrel suspiciously. "Ee kinda've look loik one o' those Macburl squirrels that live 'n Camp Oakdrey. Are ee one o' 'em?"

Rones interrupted so that Elmblade didn't have to reply. "What does it matter who he is? Mae nephew could be in th' clutches o' vermin right now for fur' sake!"

"Alroight, I'll take ee to 'im." And with that, the moles started to trudge off, waving a paw that meant that they should follow.

"Should we even trust 'im?" Elmblade whispered quietly to Rones.

The white-furred shrew shrugged. "I don't think we really 'ave a choice."


	20. Chapter 19

**Author Notes**

 **Yay! This story has reached its 100** **th** **reviews, and 2,000** **th** **views! Thanks a lot everyone!**

 **Shout-outs to The Grey Coincidence, Waycaster, Firestar the Warrior, Abrahem, One-Eye the Wildcat, . 15, Seakard, Wildfan23, fan-like-irving, Redwalllover 28 and King Doge, and everyone else who has read, reviewed, followed, favorited, or read this story.**

 **Waycaster: Yeah, it should be interesting to see who would win if a wolf and a badger fought. It might just happen! You know, if 'var' means spring, than I guess we could start calling him Brightspring. XD**

 **The Grey Coincidence: I'm glad you like Bertvar so far, I loved all the villains in Redwall so I try to make all of mine somewhat interesting. Also, we might just see BvB in a few chapters, who knows.**

 **Firestar the Warrior: I'm glad you liked Bertvar as well! You're right about him being a bit less predictable since he's just interested in getting the most profit.**

 **Abrahem: Hopefully we shall see who some of Nightwrath in a few chapters. I'm glad you liked Bert, and I hoped you had a happy Easter!**

 **. 15: I'm glad you like it so far! Hopefully you'll like the rest!**

 **Now, on to chapter 19!**

0000000000000000

 **TERRAMORT**

The sun beat down as King Bloodfur stood by one of his palace's south windows, where he could see his creatures down by the harbor running to and fro like little ants as they prepared the dock for an approaching ship.

"I wonder if it's one of th' ships that I sent t' Salamandastron," The searat king wondered aloud to himself. He still was having doubts about sending such a large part of his fleet to attack the mountain, but, if they succeeded, it was rumored that there was more gold in Salamandastron than anybeast could imagine! And Bloodfur could imagine quite a lot of gold.

Peering closer, the searat king could just manage to make out the name of the vessel carved onto the prow, _The_ _Gutkeel,_ he watched silently as the shipmade its slow way into Terramort's harbor. Squinting hard, he noticed that the tall thin beast standing proudly at the stern was none other than the captain of the ship herself.

"Ah, so yew finally decided t' show up, eh, Captain Slisk." He mused aloud.

Captain Slisk Wiplash was a female searat who was well known for her cunning and crave for power. She was one of the corsair captains who hadn't reported back to Terramort for quite some time. After a few seasons, most of the corsairs on the island had begun to think that the infamous Captain Slisk and her ship had either gotten swallowed up whole by a whirlpool or had been sunk in one of the many storms that plagued the Northern waters where Captain Slisk was well known to be fond of visiting.

Bloodfur took another long glance at the ship to make sure that nothing was out of the ordinary, then, he stepped back from the window and barked out orders to his ever present captain of the guard, "Bruggor! Gather a score o' guards an' follow me down to the docks. We've got another visitor."

00000000000000

 **ABOARD THE** _ **GUTKEEL**_

Abe Hardspike the hedgehog was one of the many slaves unfortunate enough to be aboard the _Gutkeel_ as she made her slow way towards Terramort.

Abe was rather skinny for a hedgehog, though that was because like all of the other slaves on the _Gutkeel_ he had been starved and beaten more times than he could count. He was not at all the kind of beast that one would call a warrior. In fact, Abe was almost as far from a warrior as you could get! The peaceful hedgehog had lived happily on a small island in the Northern Sea when he was suddenly captured by a Captain Slisk and her crew.

The hedgehog shot a glance over at the other slave sitting next to him. It was an old mouse who looked like he had been a rowing slave for his whole life. The poor creature's ribs were jutting out of his skin and his eyes were beginning to mist over.

' _I don't think that this poor creature's got very long to live,'_ Abe thought to himself as he tugged the long oar. He was doing double the work he normally did considering his bench-mate could barely keep himself sitting up, let alone help pull a heavy oar. The hedgehog didn't complain though. If the old mouse was doomed to die in this floating ship from Hellgates than Abe wanted to make sure that he would die as peacefully as possible.

Not long afterwards, the old mouse's suddenly let go of the oar and fell over sideways.

"Come on, ol' feller. Jus' try to stay up a little longer," Abe whispered as he desperately tried to shake the old slave awake. When he didn't stir, the hedgehog leaned over and felt his pulse. Nothing.

"We've got a downed rower over here!" He yelled.

"Well what are yew waiting fer? Someone to come kiss 'im on th' 'ead? Keep rowing," A sarcastic voice growled, and a large, bloated searat called Whiphide waddled into view.

Whiphide was a cold-blooded vermin. He was in charge of instilling discipline into the slaves, and the rat was only too happy to use extreme measures to make sure it happened.

"Scruffy, take the dead scum an' throw 'im overboard," The searat barked, "Teurn, get a replacement from th' fresh slaves."

Abe continued tugging his oar as he waited for the dead slave's replacement to arrive.

"I sure 'ope that th' next slave is a lot stronger," He muttered to himself.

But before his replacement could show up, he suddenly heard one of the corsairs come stomping down the steps that led to the galleys, "All th' slaves are ordered t' report on th' main deck!" The searat growled, brandishing a whip.

The hedgehog slave slowly brought his oar in and after trying to stretch his aching limbs a little bit, he joined the long line of tired, half-starved slaves as they slowly made their tired way to the ladder that led to the top deck.

"Come on, move!" The searat growled, hitting Abe's shoulder with his long whip. "Get ready t' meet yer new 'ome." The large rat chuckled wickedly as he added, "It'll probably be th' only 'ome any of ye'll ever see again!"

Abe gritted his teeth as climbed up the steps. _I remember the time that I never really ever hated anybeast before in my life,_ He thought to himself, _But now I'd give anything to get my paws around that filthy vermin' neck!_

Once he reached the top of the ladder, the hedgehog blinked his eyes rapidly as they tried to get used to the bright sunlight that was making them water. He climbed onto the main deck and stood off to the side, hoping to remain unnoticed by his cruel captors.

Once all of the slaves behind him had reached the top, they shuffled into a group, waiting to see what their fate was.

"Stand lively there, yew swabs," The fat searat with the whip yelled out gruffly, "an' make way fer Capt'n Slisk!"

All of the slaves' eyes were glowing with hatred and fear as the female rat smoothly walked up. Captain Slisk had light brown fur. She wore a long, tight fitting tunic, and stashed away in her belt were several long throwing knives.

All of the slaves' gazes slowly dropped to the floor one by one submissively as Captain Slisk stood there silently, with her sharp gaze seeming to cut right through the woodland creatures.

Abe's eyes too fell to the ground, but as he did so, he noticed that a scarred otter standing a few creatures down from him kept his head up defiantly, refusing to submit in the slightest way to his captors. Abe recognized him as one of the newer slaves.

The silence was starting to become unbearable when suddenly, it was broken by the sound of Slisk's boots as she started to walk along the line of slaves.

"When I point at yew I want yew t' go t' th' other side of th' ship," She began, fingering the handle on one of her blades. Her voice was surprisingly soft and gentle, but the rowing slaves who had been on the ship the longest knew that she was as cruel as they come. "Yew are about t' meet yer new master, so I don't want any of yew t' give any trouble, yew hear? Now yew," She pointed at one of the stronger looking slaves, a young squirrel, "Go t' th' other side of the ship."

She pointed to another slave. "Yew too," She said, than continued down the line.

 _She's only picking the fresh slaves like me,_ Abe Hardspike thought to himself after Slisk had chosen a few of the woodlanders. _I wonder if I'll get picked as well then._

His suspicions proved correct when the searat glanced at him and said smoothly, "Yew as well, 'edgepig."

Abe didn't know if he should be sighing with relief or trembling in his boots. But whatever the case, he quickly joined the others on the other side of the _Gutkeel_.

He turned around just in time to see Captain Slisk point at the scarred otter. "Yew'll go as well."

"No."

The corsair captain pretended to clear her ears. "What did yew say?" She asked, her voice dangerously quiet.

"Yew killed my family, scum," The otter growled, "an' I'm gonna make sure yew never 'urt anybeast else again!"

Giving a mighty roar, the slave charged Slisk. Armed with nothing more than his chains, the large otter swung them at her head, hoping to end the fight before the other startled searats could react.

Slisk leapt back, and swiftly drew one of her daggers.

"Raggar, make sure that th' other slaves don't move a whisker! I'll take care of this brute myself!" She yelled to her second-in-command, dodging as the otter slave swung his chain at her again.

The watching searats quickly surrounded the gathered slaves and kept their weapons pointed at the slaves' throats in case they decided to try and join the fight between the otter and the corsair captain.

Though he was strong from tugging an oar, the scarred otter realized that the chain was too clumsy and heavy for his already half-starved body to keep swinging. So instead, he ran forward and tried to tackle Slisk.

The searat jumped to the side with a shocking amount of speed and buried her long dagger into the slave's arm.

"AAHRG!" The otter slave immediately gave out a pained roar and fell on his knees, clasped his bleeding arm. His eyes turned a light shade of red and he swung his left paw out, punching the corsair captain on the chin.

Slisk recoiled back from the blow. Apparently, the wounded otter still had some fight left in him. As the otter stood up once again and charged forward, the searat drew a short heavy knife and threw it at the charging creature with a blinding speed.

The otter suddenly stopped with a gasp of pain and looked down dumbly at the knife blade that had thudded into his thin chest.

His blood red eyes slowly closed. Then, giving one last shuddering breath, he fell over dead, his face a frozen mask of pain and fury.

Wiping her knife on the dead carcass of the slave, Slisk slowly stood up and stared intently at the slaves.

"Would anybeast else like t' try an' fight me like this dead fool?"

Abe quickly stared at his feet so as not to draw attention to himself. Out of the corner of his eye he could tell that all the other slaves had done the same.

Once Slisk was satisfied that that none of the other slaves dared to reply, she continued down the line and resumed pointing at certain slaves and telling them to stand off to the side.

After she had finished, she turned around and nodded to her first mate, a large rat dressed in a loose-fitted red shirt and brown pants.

"Raggar, once we pull up t' th' docks make sure that all of these slaves are escorted to th' royal slave-yard." Then, she turned to the unchosen slaves and commanded, "Th' rest o' yew get back t' yer oars."

As the _Gutkeel_ pulled up to the dock, a few rats who had been waiting for them ran about making sure that the ship was tied securely so she couldn't drift away with the waves.

Once the _Gutkeel_ was secure, the slaves were marched off the ship and made to stand quietly on the dock as Captain Slisk and Raggar made there slow way down.

Slisk was scanning the crowd of vermin before her when her keen eyes noticed a certain rat in particular.

"Looks like King Bloodfur wants to welcome us 'imself," She commented quietly to Raggar. "I wonder what th' old barbarian's been up to since we've last been here."

Once Bloodfur's guards had pushed their way through the crowd, the searat king walked forward and commented rather bluntly, "Well, yew've been gone fer a quite a while, haven't ye, Cap'n Slisk?"

Slisk gave the king a respectful bow. "Yes I 'ave, yer majesty. But I made sure t' bring you th' finest slaves as a token of my respect."

"Hmm… Lucky fer yew," Bloodfur commented.

They stood for a while, studying each other.

Then Bloodfur broke the silence by walking closer and giving Slisk a somewhat friendly punch on the shoulder. "Why don't ye come on in to Fort Bloodgard an' rest yerselves. Maybe while yer at it yew kin tell us some new tales o' yer adventures on the North Sea. Why I'll bet ye didn't even know that the queen and I had a son!" He declared.

"No I didn't, yer majesty." Captain Slisk replied. "Congratulations."

The searat king was well known for his drastic moods swings, so Slisk was only too happy to make sure that he stayed calm and happy.

As Bloodfur and Slisk made their way to Fort Bloodgard, chuckling and trading tales, the slaves were gathered up and lead to the slave-yards.

Abe looked over to where they could see woodland slaves of all sizes cutting wood and carrying lumber down to the harbor.

 _I wonder what our job will be,_ Abe thought. _I sure wouldn't complain if we were hauling wood! That'd probably be a lot easier than rowing!_

000000000000000

 _Great, completely typical!_ Abe grumbled to himself. _All I asked for was to be assigned to the lumber yards, and did that happen? Of course not! I had to get assigned to this death hole!_

The hedgehog was referring to the coal mines that were under the island of Terramort. He had requested to be one of the slaves who would work in the forests cutting down trees, but the head slave-master told him that they had all the help that they needed and to get to work before he flayed his hide!

So that was why the unfortunate slave was grumbling to himself as he gathered blocks of coal that were hewn from the underground caverns.

He didn't notice the rat walking up behind him until the vermin gave a wicked chuckle. "Hehe, yer th' slave who asked if yew could 'ave a more pampered job, ain't ye?"

Abe turned around to see the vermin who had sneered at him. He was a big vermin, covered in tattoos and wearing a ragged shirt with woolen trousers.

When Abe didn't reply, the rat prodded him in the shoulder with his fist.

"Well? Are ye?" He asked again, when the hedgehog still didn't reply the searat slowly drew a dagger. "Speak up, ye scum! Do yew 'ave mud in yer ears?! Maybe I should clean 'em for yew!"

The rat stepped forward and Abe stood his ground. He was prepared to fight back if push came to shove. The slave remembered the woodlander that Slisk had killed, how his eyes had clouded over as he gasped his last breath.

 _If I have to, I'll avenge him and every other slave that these vermin have killed._ Abe thought angrily as he readied his stance in case the vermin wished to fight.

"Ah, we've got us a little rebel 'ere." The rat grinned. His eyes turned cold as he continued, "Now listen, 'edgepig, we don't take kindly t' beasts who won't do as they're told on this 'ere island, so if I was yew, I'd start acting a lot more respectful."

"Well you ain't me, are you," Abe retorted.

The rat sighed and looked down at his dagger. "Ye know, we got some very harsh punishments that we give t' scum like yew. First, we slice their cheek just below their eye so that everybeast would know that they're a trouble-maker. Then, if they're still being uncooperative, we slice their other cheek." He licked the blade of his long knife. "Which cheek would yew like me t' start on," He asked, taking a step forward.

The rat suddenly stopped as a he felt a paw grab his elbow. Spinning around, the vermin looked down at the shrew who had stopped him.

"What do ye want, Scars?" The large vermin growled at the shrew.

"I just want t' ask ye tae take it easy on the hedgehog." 'Scars' replied. "He's one o' the newer slaves so he's probably jus' not used tae all o' this. Jus' give me a day wit' him an' I'll 'ave him working so fast it'll make your head spin."

Abe was shocked when he saw the rat nod his head in consent.

"Alright, but he'd better start workin' faster fer both of yer sakes." And with that, the rat turned around and stalked off in search of new victims.

"Th-thank you, mate," Abe said gratefully as he watched the shrew continue picking up slabs of coal, "I appreciate you steppin' in like that for me."

The shrew flashed him a grin. "Och, well it was th' least I kin do. Jus' make sure to watch out fer that rat, okay? He's a cruel numpty who'd jus' as soon poke yer eyes out as talk tae ye."

Abe studied the shrew for a minute. He understood why the rat had called him 'Scars,' because his body was covered with numerous scars. The two scars that stood out the most however, were the one on the sides of his cheeks, directly beneath his eyes. He looked rather strong for a shrew, Abe noticed. The hedgehog guessed that it was probably from hauling the heavy blocks of coal all day.

"Would you mind if I asked how you got those scars?" The hedgehog asked, pointed to the scars on the shrew's cheek. "Was that vermin telling the truth when he said that they cut the trouble-makers cheeks as a warning to the others?"

The shrew lifted his paw to his face for a quick second to touch feel his scars. "Aye, mate, they sure do. I'll let ye on a little secret, don't draw attention tae yerself, jus' wait and wait until th' right moment tae get yer revenge."

As the shrew picked up another chunk of coal and started carrying it to the large pile where all the slaves were stacking them, Abe raised his paw. "Wait! My name is Abe Hardspike. What's yours?"

The shrew turned and gave a small smile. "Broge," He replied almost wistfully. "That's what they used tae call me, Chief Broge of the northern shrews."

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 **Footnote:**

 **Happy (granted late) Easter, everybody! So Tragg and Rosebud's Dad survived the attack! Did anyone guess who he was before Broge told Abe his name? I wouldn't be surprised if you didn't, I just thought I'd ask because we seem to have some very shrew(d) detectives reading this. XD**

 **If anyone is interested, I put out a new poll for my story every one or two weeks, so if you'd like, you can vote! If some characters get more votes than others, I'll probably try not to kill them off. However, for the ones who don't get very many votes, MWHAHAHAHA!**

 **Hope you all enjoyed chapter 19 of "The Grey Warlord!" ~Sebias of Redwall~**


	21. Chapter 20

**Author Note**

 **Firestar the Warrior: I'm glad you liked the chapter! We shall see if Tragg even gets to see Broge though. *Chuckles evilly***

 **The Grey Coincidence: Don't worry. I don't plan on killing off characters unless it's good for the plot. It's just that sometimes it's so hard to give certain characters personalities and I was thinking about just giving them a heroic death or something…**

 **I'm kinda glad that you see the slaves that way 'cause that was the impression I was going for.**

 **Waycaster: Same thing I said to Grey, I probably worded that last Author Note a bit wrong. :P Yup, the Grey Warlord draws closer.**

 **Abrahem: I'm glad that you liked the fight. (I was hoping it turned out somewhat alright)**

 **Seakard: There's one slight problem there…Bloodfur got two votes and Bertvar got the other two.**

 **. 15: Thanks!**

 **One-Eye the Wildcat: Yeah, I was originally thinking of having Broge stay dead to be honest. But I decided to drag him from the grave. Er…pages…whatever.**

 **The Theocentric Thulcandrian: I'm glad you like the story so far. I'm also flattered that you think I somewhat kept Jacques' style 'cause that's what I was kinda aiming for.**

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 **SALAMANDASTRON**

The flags of the vermin army were flapping toward the west as the horde stood at ramrod attention on the western shore, just out of reach of the mountain's archers.

The hares of the Long Patrol were silent as they watched the vermin, their weapons close at paw.

"What's takin' the bloody vermin so long?" Charlie grumbled aloud from where he was standing with the other cadets, "I almost kind of wish they'd jolly-well hurry up an' make up their bloomin' minds, wot."

Sergeant One-Ear had been pacing back and forth behind the lines of hares when he heard Charlie's comment and smiled, "You just might live to regret wishing they'd make up their minds about attacking, laddie buck. Though I understand where you're coming from, I myself can't stand these long waits before a battle. Wot wot."

Charlie glanced back at the vast army of vermin troops.

"Do you think we stand a chance at all at beating them?" The young hare asked. Most of the other cadets shifted their eyes to the Sergeant as they waited to hear his answer.

Even though personally the Sergeant thought their chances were as good as a mouse trying to knock over a tree with his bare paws, he tried to appear like it was a ridiculous question by saying, "Ha, the real question is do _they_ stand a chance against us! We're the hares of the blooming Long Patrol! Wot. As long as we still have a jolly breath in our bodies, no puffed-up-brained vermin will ever storm their way into these walls, right troops?"

All of the cadets and younger recruits nodded their heads in agreement and a few of them piped up and agreed with the Sergeant loudly.

"You bet, Sarge, we'll kick their scruffy tails back where they came from! Wot!"

"I'll say, we'll blooming fight t' the bitter end!"

"They'll wish they had never messed with us, sah!"

Sergeant One-Ear felt a slight drop of moisture beginning to form around his eye. _How many of these poor cadets will come out of this battle alive?_ He wondered. The veteran took a swift glance at the thousands of vermin waiting on the shore. _Come to think about it, will any of us make it out of this alive?_

Brushing his eyes roughly, the Sergeant bellowed, "Alright then, troops, turn about an' face the enemy, make sure that they know that we aren't afraid of the bounders. Wot."

He watched with amusement as the young hares all turned around and tried their best to glare at the vermin even though the vermin probably couldn't even see them. Still, it was good for moral, and that's what counted.

He felt a paw tap his shoulder lightly. "I heard what you said to the cadets," A familiar old voice whispered, "You do a great job at keeping their spirits up. Wot wot."

Sergeant One-Ear turned around to see Colonel Brewster standing behind him, a wistful smile on his face.

"What do _you_ think about our chances, Colonel?" One-Ear asked.

Brewster indicated for him to step a bit farther away from the cadets. When One-Ear followed, Brewster let out a quiet sigh, "Honestly, I don't really know. We might make if we are able to hang onto our defenses long enough for the Rogue Crew or some of our other allies to help us. But even then, unless we have a few thousand otters running about, even our impressive army of five hundred hares might not pull through."

The Sergeant had already known this deep down in his gut, but instead of feeling fear, One-Ear only felt a grim acceptance at the Colonel's words.

"What's the plan then?" One-Ear asked.

"Lord Rockfur says that he wants you t' lead a squad of hares an' try to reach th' jolly ol' Rogue Crew and any of our other allies."

"Haven't the vermin already sent soldiers to surround us yet, sah?"

The Colonel paused. "That's a risk I'm afraid you've just going to have to take, Sergeant. I'm sorry."

One-Ear gave a grim nod. "Alright, sah, I'll leave right away."

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Down in a tunnel that led to the mountain's main gates, Eric Swiftpaw was having a problem with keeping a certain beast from leaving the mountain, especially when that certain beast towered over him.

Urthblaze the young badger was armed with a large axe that he "borrowed" from Lord Rockfur's forge room and was trying to pass the Long Patrol hares that were blocking his path.

"Get out of my way," Urthblaze growled, stepping a few paces forward, his eyes were beginning to turn a faint pink as he envisioned tearing through the vermin ranks that had killed his kin.

When the hares didn't budge from their posts, Urthblaze swung the axe off his shoulder where it had been resting. "If I have to, I'll batter a path right through you with my axe shaft!"

"What's going on down here?" A voice suddenly boomed loudly.

Eric looked past Urthblaze and saw Lord Rockfur himself standing there, wearing his forge apron and a slight frown.

"I had been wondering what had happened to my axe, Now I'm pretty sure I know where it went," The badgerlord commented to Urthblaze. "Tell me, lad, why are you threatening to push your way through my loyal Long Patrollers?"

"Just let me through," Urthblaze growled, fingering the wooden part of his axe, "I need to wipe the lands clean of those vermin scum who killed my grandfather!"

Rockfur could tell that Urthblaze was nearly at the verge of bloodwrath, so he tried once more to reason with him. "Come now, Urthblaze, use your head. You wouldn't be able to even _begin_ to dent that army by attacking 'em alone. Just wait and I'm sure you'll get your chance for vengeance."

For a minute Urthblaze didn't seem like he was prepared to back down, but just as Lord Rockfur got ready to try and knock out the angry young warrior before he did something stupid, Urthblaze's eyes finally went from light red to pink, then finally to normal.

"Alright, Lord Rockfur," Urthblaze mumbled, letting the axe fall to the ground, "I'll do as you say. Though don't expect me to like it for one second!"

Lord Rockfur gave an inward sigh of relief. "I wouldn't expect you to." The badgerlord said, putting a comforting paw on Urthblaze's shoulder, "You know, when I was around your age, I was reckless, always ready for I fight. Back then I couldn't even control my bloodwrath." Lord Rockfur paused. "I…did things that I'll regret doing for the rest of my life."

Eric and the other hare guards glanced around, looking rather awkward at hearing their master's confession.

Noticing them, Lord Rockfur hastily tried to change that subject by giving a short cough. "Eh-hem, well, I need to get my battle armor from the forge room, care to join me?"

"I guess," Urthblaze replied, his face impassive. Urthblaze still wasn't exactly feeling happy about not being able to avenge his kin, but deep down, the young badger realized that Lord Rockfur had a point about waiting for the right moment.

Picking up the fallen axe, Lord Rockfur started walking to the forge room. He stopped and looked back to make sure that Urthblaze was following.

"It's alright," Urthblaze managed to smile grimly, "I'm not going to try and sneak out. Besides," He turned to Eric Swiftpaw, "I think your hares would let you know if I tried."

Eric saluted the badger with his spear, a big smile on his face. "You can bloomin' bet we would, ol' chap."

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 **ON SALAMANDASTRON'S SHORE**

Once the vermin army had stopped marching, Baro Steelclaw ordered the corsair ships to drop off the rest of his soldiers onto the beach.

Once he had landed, the wolverine immediately ordered tents to be set up on a few of the large hills surrounding the mountain.

He then called a meeting in his personal tent with a few of his horde captains to discuss their strategy and to accept their orders.

"Eafru," The wolverine growled to a tall, male ermine who carried a longbow and was sitting directly to his left, "I want you to take a few hundred troops an' strengthen the brigade I sent t' the east of the mountain just in case that badger has any ideas of sending his hares out, and make sure to send some of the crow scouts along as well." He paused to point at a certain location at the map sprawled out on the wooden table before them to show exactly where.

He then pointed a long claw at the white-furred vixen that he had first sent to King Bloodfur to give the message of the alliance between Terramort and The Lands of Snow and Ice. "Sanjur, I want you to accompany me along with two-score ermine and a few of our axe-foxes when I go to give the ruler of Salamandastron the terms."

Sanjur raised a paw questioningly. "Should we be ready t' stick 'em full o' arrows in case the meetin' goes lousy, yer majesty?"

Baro seemed to consider her answer for a minute then slowly shook his head. "No, I want them t' trust us as much as possible. If we can get what we came here for then we won't need to fight them at all."

"Now _that_ is quite interesting, Emperor Baro," Blue-Eyes the weasel said as he slid smoothly into the tent. "But what about half of the mountain's vast amount of treasure that you promised my king? Surely you weren't lying."

"Of course not," Baro replied, his face completely unreadable. "If you'd like, you can come with me yourself t' make sure that the searat kingdom doesn't get the short end of the stick."

"Hmm…that sounds good to me." Blue-Eyes responded. "When will we leave?"

"In just a few minutes, ambassador," The wolverine replied. "You should probably go an' tell Captain Hookarm so he can accompany us."

Blue-Eyes hesitated, "Alright."

Once the weasel had left, Baro turned to his captains. "I think my troops have been waiting in this hot sun for too long. It's time to figure out the fate of the mountain."

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When the hares on by the windows saw Baro, flanked by Hookarm and Blue-Eyes, with a troop of three-score guards advancing forward, waving a white flag of truce, they immediately sent word to Lord Rockfur and continued to watch the vermin with suspicious eyes and drawn bows as they waited for their orders.

Once the wolverine reached easy earshot of the mountain he roared out thunderously, "Where is the leader of Salamandastron?! Tell him that I wish to speak with him and give him my terms!"

Baro stood back once he was finished so that his guards could cover him with their large, square shields in case the badgerlord and his hares decided to overlook the flag of truce and decide to try and kill the Emperor where he stood.

The massive iron gates creaked open slowly as Lord Rockfur strode out. The badgerlord was decked out in his finest war-armor and carried a large broadsword in one paw and a large round shield in the other. He was also accompanied by a force of three-score hares armed with pikes and longbows. Urthblaze had wanted to come, but Rockfur had ordered him to stay. Things would get messy fast if Urthblaze started a fight while they were countlessly outnumbered.

The two opposing parties stopped not far from each other and stood silently, trying to take stock of one another.

Rockfur decided to cut right to the chase. "I'm Lord Rockfur, Badgerlord of Salamandastron, defender of the western shore! Who dares marches to my door armed for war?"

"Only a creature that needs a few things of little importance from your mountain," Came Baro's calm reply, "if you hand them over there shall be no bloodshed. However, if you choose to fight…" – Baro glanced down at his claws as he paused – "Then I'll raze your mountain to the ground!"

Rockfur shook his head slowly. "When will you bloodthirsty vermin warlords realize that evil will never win in the end? Ferahgo, Razzid Wearat, Gormad Tunn of the rapscallions, Ugnatt Trunn and many, many more have tried to take this mountain and each and every one of them are long dead with nothing to show for it."

Baro gave a deep chuckle. "Oh, I don't think you've ever seen anything like me, badger. I singlepawedly defeated the wolf lords of the North and took complete control of The Lands of Snow and Ice. I've defeated more enemies than you could count!" The wolverine suddenly reached into his armor and pulled out a small, finely carved piece of stone. Holding it up so that Lord Rockfur could see it, he asked, "Have you ever heard of 'The Game of Armies and Kingdoms?'"

Rockfur nodded his head. "Yes. I've heard of it, I never played it myself though." His eyes turned dark as he added, "I'm normally too busy keeping power hungry vermin in their place."

The wolverine continued as if he didn't hear the last part of what the badgerlord said. "In 'Game of Armies and Kingdoms' there is one piece called the Mountain Defender," – Baro held up the stone game piece and Baro could see that the stone was carved to look just like a small mountain fortress, "The Mountain Defender is an incredibly hard piece to conquer, but after many seasons of playing, I've figured out that if you make sure that the Mountain Defender doesn't get help from any other allied pieces, then you can simply cut it off and keep throwing your worthless pieces at it until it finally falls."

Baro Steelclaws' eyes glanced down at the game piece, then back up to Lord Rockfur. "I'm sure that you understand what I'm talking about, Lord Rockfur."

"I do," Rockfur replied. Slowly he swung his broadsword, as he added, "But I will never surrender my mountain to you or any other vermin scum, so you're just wasting your time by giving me empty threats."

The wolverine emperor sighed. "I was afraid you were going to be difficult. But I that's the way –

Baro was suddenly interrupted as a large crow – one of Baro's scouts – dove out from the sky and landed next to him with a loud squawk. "Crah! Hare-beasts are leavin' th' mountain place!" The large bird declared.

Baro shot a swift glance over at Lord Rockfur and his patrol of hares. "So," He mused, "you tried to sneak out some messengers while you distracted me, eh? Classical 'Game of Armies and Kingdoms' move. It's a pity that the hares you sent will never complete their patrol!" The wolverine let out a savage roar and grabbed his large sword that he had close to paw.

"Spear wall!" Lord Rockfur ordered, and the three-score hares immediately sprang into action. The first two lines of hares held their pikes and spears forward as the archer-beasts behind them let out a quick volley of arrows.

Ten or so of the vermin guards in the front were cut down by arrows as they charged the grim lines of hares.

"Long Patrol to me!" Rockfur shouted. He knew that if they stayed out in the open too long, that the rest of the vermin horde would come crashing down on them. "Fall back! Retreat to the mountain! Keep shooting your arrows at them!"

Regular hares are known for their remarkable speed, but Rockfur had picked only the best of the best to come with him, so when the Badgerlord gave the order to retreat, they bolted off, still keeping ranks and shooting bows. A feat which normal hares would find extremely difficult.

As some of the ermine soldiers leapt forward to chase them, Baro stopped them dead in their tracks with a loud shout, "Stay where you are! They have nowhere to go."

Blue-Eyes – who had so far kept silent through the whole meeting – gave the wolverine emperor a questioning look. "Why not just send your ermine after them? They might get lucky and kill a few of those hares, or even the badger?"

Baro shook his head. "No. Those Long Patrol hares are far more superior then any of our soldiers. I want them almost on the brink of starvation before I send my army against them in a frontal assault."

Blue-Eyes glanced over to Lord Rockfur and his troops. The weasel noticed that they were already too close to the mountain's gate for anybeast to catch up with them before they reached it.

"'Never underestimate your enemies strength,' that's what King Bloodfur always says," Blue-Eyes stood and stared at the mountain, "Now that we've started, there's no turning back. The battle for Salamandastron has begun."

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 **End of Book I: The Warlord Watches.**

 _Footnote: I've divided this story into three separate parts so, The Grey Warlord: Book I: The Warlord Watches has ended. Book II should be out by next week. Happy reading, everyone!_


	22. Chapter 21 Book II: The Warlord Arrives

**Author note**

 **The Grey Coincidence: Thanks for the review! Hopefully I'll be able to slow down somewhat these next chapters so my characters have a bit more of a chance to have some Character Development. I'm glad you liked the parley seen! It was pretty fun to write.**

 **Hopefully Lord Rockfur will get his own backstory, it might be a while though…Maybe a one-shot…Hmm.**

 **I had thought my Salamadastron chapters were slightly dry so I'm glad you like them! Hopefully Book II will be a fun ride! Glad you enjoyed Book I!**

 **Seakard: Probably both.**

 **Waycaster: Thanks! I wasn't sure about the parley seen at first. I'm glad you liked it!**

 **Firestar the Warrior: Thank you! Yeah, Sergeabt One-Ear is pretty fun to write sometimes. I kinda like the veteran hare myself! (Though I like all of my characters) ;-)**

 **Abrahem: It's a combo of both, based off of real games but with my own twist to them. Yep, it's three books long. (At least that's the plan)**

 **The Theocentric Thulcandrian: Thanks! I hope you enjoy the rest as well!**

 **BOOK II: The Warlord Arrives**

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 **REDWALL ABBEY**

After the rather disastrous meeting between the hamsters and the Abbey leaders, Father Daniel had declared that everybeast should turn into bed early that night so that they would all have sharp, clear minds in the morning.

Long after Sebias had said goodnight to Sam and Gerardo, the young otter was sitting in his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He hadn't been able to fall asleep. He wasn't exactly sure why. The air was nice and chilly just like Sebias liked it and his blankets and sheets were nice and soft.

Giving a low mumble he turned on his side and let his gaze wander around his dormitory room. It was a rather small room. With a large window about waist high and a few wooden shelves filled with some books that Brother Michael had let him borrow from the Gatehouse. There were a few fishing poles and spears leaning against the wall, and a small wooden shield that Gerardo had made for him a few seasons back.

Sebias smiled to himself as he thought about the time when Sam had "borrowed" one of the tools that Gerardo used to make one of his many little inventions. When the mouse had heard that Sam had used it to dig around in the dirt, Sebias had thought Gerardo was going to strangle Sam if he didn't show him where it was immediately.

 _Mess not with want-to-be-invertors and their tools,_ Sebias thought, the tired grin on his face growing just a bit bigger.

The young otter's eyes finally closed slowly as sleep came like a subtle breeze.

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 _Sebias found himself in a large wooded forest. The otter blinked his eyes as a warm light hit his face. He started walking forward, admiring the strange trees and colorful leaves that surrounded him._

" _Sebias," a voice suddenly called, it didn't sound like any voice that Sebias had ever heard before. It was a rich, almost majestic voice that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere._

" _Who-…who is there?" The young otter asked, scouring the forest for any sign of the creature. – if it even was a creature. He wasn't exactly sure._

" _Sebias," The voice said again._

 _Sebias peered intently ahead of him and realized with a gasp that he could see the shady form of what appeared to be a noble looking mouse in armor. For some reason it didn't click in Sebias' brain that this mouse was the legendary Martin the Warrior until he saw the faint outline of his sword that was strapped to his back._

" _You…you…you're Martin th'Warrior!" Sebias managed to gasp out as he gazed at the hero of so many Redwall legends and tales. "I've 'eard all 'bout you! You used t' be a slave in Marshank, an' you freed Mossflower from that one wildcat ruler! An' –_

 _The excited otter went silent as the mouse raised his paws, Sebias could've sworn that the warriors eyes were smiling._

" _I don't have long," Martin said, though his mouth didn't even move, "Redwall has faced many a danger in its day, yet what is about to happen will be like nothing they've ever seen!"_

" _But why are you tellin' me?" The words were out before Sebias could stop them._

 _The warrior smiled as he studied the young otter. "Why ever not, young one?"_

" _Well, I'm just an ordinary otter! I'm not smart like Gerardo when it comes t' inventin' things, an' I'm not stealthy 'r good with a bow like Sam, an' I'm definitely not wise like Father Abbot! So why don't you jus' tell one of 'em instead?"_

 _Martin hesitated before he replied. "I don't think you quite realize how special you are, young one. There is something happening, something that's severing my connection with Redwall, and all that I know for certain, is that you must be chosen to fulfill a task."_

 _Sebias' eyes widened until they looked like large dinner plates. What in fates' name could keep Martin the Warrior himself from guiding Redwall! Maybe that was why he could only barely make out Martin's figure._

 _Martin's eyes seemed like they could see through Sebias' soul as the mouse continued, "Fate has decided that you will play a part in what shall happen soon. I'm not going to try and tell you that it won't be terrifying or hard, but I will ask you if you are willing to do what's best for the abbey. What is best for all creatures in Mossflower woods, be they small or old, strong or weak, ordinary or unordinary?"_

 _Sebias felt a wave of different emotions at Martin the Warrior's words. After some long consideration, the otter finally sighed acceptingly, "Alright. Tell me what I need t' do."_

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After his dream with Martin the Warrior, Sebias had slept peacefully for the rest of the night. Now, even before the abbey cooks had woken up to start cooking breakfast, the young otter awoke and leapt from his bed.

He quickly grabbed his favorite javelin – a season-day gift from Skipper – and ran about his room, looking for any useful objects.

After he had bundled a few things together in a sack that he had found hanging against the wall, he quietly slipped out of his room and shut the door.

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Sam was sleeping soundly inside his own dormitory room. He was having a lovely dream where Friar Peter was letting him eat all the pies and tarts he wanted instead of having to steal them. The squirrel was smacking his lips in his sleep when he suddenly felt somebeast shaking him roughly.

"Mmm, this flan sure tastes good," Sam mumbled as he tried to hang on to the last bits of his dream. "Please pass me that lovely cake, Friar Peter. No not that carrot one, the strawberry one with cream!"

"Sam, wake up!" A voice whispered urgently as the creature continued shaking the young squirrel.

Realizing that the creature wasn't about to give up any time soon, Sam slowly opened one eye. "Sebias? What are you doing here so early? It's not even light out yet!?"

"I 'ad a dream from Martin th' Warrior!"

Sam's eyes instantly shot open, and the squirrel sat up in his bed. "What kind of dream? Are you sure it was from Martin the Warrior? What did he say? Are you going on a quest like in all of th' tales we've heard? Who is – umf!

Sebias had finally reached over and covered Sam's mouth with his paw when the squirrel didn't stop babbling. "Quiet, matey, or you'll wake everybeast in th' whole blinkin' abbey," He whispered.

Careful to lower his voice to a whisper, Sam asked, "Well?"

Sebias sighed. "Yes I'm sure it was from Martin th' Warrior. I don't remember the whole dream exactly, it's all still comin' back t' me. Though I think I at least remember most of th' important stuff."

"So what are we supposed to do?"

"Well, Martin told me t' pick two companions and to head northeast through Mossflower woods."

"Did he say why?" The squirrel asked.

Sebias shook his head. "Nope, or if he did, I don't remember it. All I know is that we've got one shot at this. Will you come with me?"

Sam pretended that he was deeply pondering for a minute then he reached over and slapped Sebias on the shoulder. "Of course I'm coming! What? Did you really think I'd pass up such a good opportunity for an adventure?"

"I didn't doubt you fer a second, matey," Sebias smiled, "I just wanted t' see 'ow you'd reply. Come on," He added, "Let's go see what Gerardo says."

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Gerardo was a little bit more sceptic than Sam.

"How are you sure that Martin _gave_ you the dream and that you didn't just have an ordinary dream with Martin in it instead?" The mouse asked from where he had been lying in his bed, sleeping contently.

"I don't really know 'ow t' explain it, Gerardo," Sebias replied, scratching his head fur, "I…I just know it was from Martin. I'm going, even if I got t' go alone!"

"Not alone." Sam stepped forward. "Whatever you decide, Gerardo, you need to do it quick. Sebias says we should leave before everybeast wakes up."

Gerardo let out a sigh. "I might not be too certain about this dream of yours, Sebias, but I'll come with you. That's what friends are for after all!"

Sebias pounded Gerardo on the back. "Thanks mate. I'm sure glad you're comin', you never know when you might need a good inventor t' pull you out of a sticky mess."

Gerardo shrugged. "Well someone responsible has to take care of you two fur-brains. Let me go pack my stuff."

"Okay," Sam commented, "That actually works out perfectly because we still need to grab some vittles from the kitchens."

Sebias grabbed his javelin. "I almost forgot about that!" The young otter grinned as he added, "It's a good thing I decided t' bring a walking stomach like you with us so we wouldn't forget th' food, eh, Sam?"

Sam just rolled his eyes and grabbed his pack. "Oh you think you're so smart, Sebias," He smiled, "Come on then, I guess we'll see you in a bit, Gerardo. Try to hurry up."

After the trio had all their food and supplies packed, they sneaked over to where the otter crew stored their fishing gear.

Sebias searched until he found two throwing spears. _This is probably not going to help my chances of becoming a full member of the otter crew._ Sebias thought.

Sliding smoothly up to the small side gate where Sam and Gerardo were waiting, he handed them the two spears.

"Just in case," The otter said.

Sam was armed with a longbow, and Gerardo had a short dirk tucked away into his belt. They both accepted the spears with whispers of thanks.

Armed and prepared, the three young creatures filed out of the small side gates under the cover of darkness, the dark night hiding them from any of the few otter guards on the wall top who happened to be looking their way.

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Breakfast that morning in Redwall was more quiet than usual. Abbot Daniel guessed that everybeast was still digesting what had happed the day before with Ambassador Grank.

The hamsters were now eating their food with the other abbey-dwellers and Daniel guessed that most of the soldiers from Southsward were only too happy that they were still in Redwall and enjoying good food instead of tramping through Mossflower.

The abbot glanced over to his left side as he studied Scarnose and Grank. The two hamsters were eating their food calmly and politely as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

"Do you find the food satisfactory?" Daniel asked.

"Absolutely marvelous, Father Daniel," Grank replied, as he pasted Scarnose a plate of blue-berry muffins. "A hare I had once known, would have called this food 'completely top notch, wot!' I think I shall congratulate your cook myself after breakfast!"

Daniel smiled. "Yes. Friar Peter is an extraordinary cook. He's one of our abbey's many gifts."

"Yep, I agree with you there, Father. Do you think he could –"

Everybeast was suddenly interrupted from eating as Skipper and Brother Michael walked into the Great Hall, the otter chief carrying a sheet of paper in his paw. He boomed out loudly to the assembled creatures, "Has anybeast seen Sebias, Gerardo, or Sam recently? We found this 'ere piece of paper by one of the abbey wall doors! I can't read most of it though because it looks like it had fallen into some fresh mud, but on the bottom it said that it was signed from Sebias. And now I can't find 'im, Gerardo, or Sam anywhere!"

Before the abbeybeasts could start panicking, Abbot Daniel raised his paws. "I'm sure Sebias and his friends probably only wanted to go fishing in the River Moss or something." He shot a subtle glance at Skipper as the otter opened his mouth with a retort. He remained silent as the abbot continued, "Though I'd appreciate it if you would search for them with your otters, Skipper, when you go to restock our kitchens with some shrimp."

The otter chief nodded. "Yew bet, Father Abbot. I'll get me crew assembled faster than yew could shake yer whiskers!"

"Thank you." Daniel replied. To everybeast else, he declared, "Now the rest of you may continue eating. We'll let you all know if you're needed to help search for any of our young ones."

The abbot's confident tone had noticeably calmed down the gathered abbey-dwellers somewhat. They sat quietly, watching Skipper as the otter chieftain gathered his crew and left to search for the young missing creatures.

Daniel suddenly felt somebeast tap his shoulder and turned to see Scarnose standing next to him. "I'm guessing that yew don't think that those three young 'uns are fishing," The hamster whispered. "Should I ask Grank if we should gather our hamsters t' search for 'em?"

Daniel considered the offer. "I'm afraid that if everybeast saw me send out more searchers that they'd start to panic. So I hope you don't mind just waiting until Skipper comes back from the River Moss. If they're not there, I will be thankfully obliged if you and your hamsters would help search."

"Oh I'm sure we can wait, if that's what yew think is best," Scarnose replied. "I sure 'ope that those three aren't in trouble though. The world is a pretty dark place, filled with evil creatures an' I 'ope that they 'ave the sense to stay away from trouble."

"You shouldn't have to worry there, my friend. Sebias has a good head on his shoulders, and I don't think Sam and Gerardo will be looking for trouble."

Scarnose slowly shook his head. "I hope yer right, Father Abbot. Though sometimes, trouble has a way o' finding beast wither they're looking for it or not."

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	23. Chapter 22

**Author note**

 **The Grey Coincidence: Hmm…"The Warlord Dies"… I'll have to put that under consideration… (Just kidding XD) We shall still have to wait a bit to see if Sebias is the Taggerung or not. (Though evidence rather points to him, doesn't it…) Once again, we'll just have to wait and see why Martin is fading… (Though your guess is a good one.) The "one shot" line I threw in there because it seemed to fit and it's my back-up chapter. (Just in case) :P**

 **Firestar the Warrior: I'm glad that you liked it!**

 **Waycaster: I'm glad you think that the chapter was a little vague because that was what I was going for.**

 **Theocentric Thulcandrian: Yup! Thought it was about time to chuck in Martin the Warrior. (And my plot kinda demanded it so…)**

 **Seakard: Well, their master is a rather interesting fellow with grey intentions so the hamsters are kinda still in the grey category.**

 **A shout-out to JP Fanfic and everyone else who have reviewed Fav/Followed my story so far, I really appreciate it!**

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 **NORTHLANDS**

Long after they had said farewell to Beth, Axburr followed the creek where Rones and the others had set up camp, the mole led them through the long wooded valley until they came face to face with a straight cliff of stone and rubble.

"Er…Weren't ye supposed tae lead us tae Lord Nightwrath?" Flugg asked, craning his head to peer at the top of the wall of rock.

"Yeah," Rosebud added, "Are we supposed tae fly up?"

Axburr slowly shook his head. "Burr no, young miz," The mole replied. "Oi be's jus' a taken the secret ways so that no narsty vermins foller us."

Elmblade glanced around. "Sure doesn't exactly seem that secret o' a place tae me."

Axburr shot a glare at the squirrel. "It surrposed t' be loik that. That way, nobeast would guess it's 'ere. Ain't that surrposed t' be th' point o' it being secret?"

Elmblade remained silent. If he argued too much with Axburr the mole he might once again try to raise the awkward question of 'if Elmblade was a Macburl or not.' And that was something that the squirrel definitely didn't want him to know yet.

"So does Lord Nightwrath live inside these mountains or above 'em?" Rones asked Axburr.

As the mole led them along the bottom of the cliff face he replied, "Oo arr, we'm live inside th' mountain. We molers 'ave lived 'ere for as long as we kin remember."

The white furred shrew walked around a large rock as he followed Axburr. "So...Does the place where ye live inside th' mountain 'ave a name? I know this mountain range is called th' Black Mountains but I'm guessin' ye call th' place ye live a different name."

"You'm correct there, zurr," The mole replied, a smile breaking out on his face at the mentioning of his beloved home. Axburr sighed as he tried to describe it briefly. "IronDeep is a luvvely place for us molers t' live. We'm got lots of gardens down there where we grow lots o' mushrooms 'n' other plants that kin survive wi' no zun loight. An' then there are th' underground rivers an' lakes! You'm jus' 'ave t' see it for yourselves when we arrive."

"Yes, 'when we arrive.' Jus' how long is that going tae take?" Elmblade commented under his breath.

Rosebud shot a glance over at the squirrel. Elmblade was normally a very polite beast, – in fact, that was one of the reasons that Rosebud and the others had taken a liking to the squirrel when they had first met him – but right now he wasn't exactly being very helpful by not cooperating with Axburr. Though Rosebud had to admit that the squirrel had probably been raised with tales of how Lord Nightwrath and his moles had murdered his kin, so it probably wasn't too surprising that Elmblade wasn't going to welcome the badger and his moles with open arms.

Axburr continued to walk along the bottom of the cliff until it finally veered sharply inward. The mole walked up to the moss covered wall and pulled out a small whistle from his chainmail, putting it to his lips he gave a piercing whistle.

The creatures stood in silence as they waited for an answer.

"Wasn't something supposed tae 'ave happened by now?" Rosebud whispered to Flugg.

The shrew shrugged his shoulders in reply.

Axburr merely crossed his arms and waited.

Flugg and Rosebud both nearly jumped out of their skin as there was suddenly a loud _clump_ and a cleverly crafted hidden door opened from the rock cliff.

Ten mole warriors armed with iron clubs, war hammers, and axes marched out and immediately surrounded the group.

"Axburr? What you'm be a doing back zo zoon? Aren't you'm supposed t' be followin' miz Beth?" One of the moles – a muscular looking fellow with a long scar on his left ear – asked gruffly, his dark eyes glaring suspiciously at the others. "Oo'm they be? Are they friends? What are they doing here?"

"One of'v their friends 'ave gone mizzing," Axburr replied. "As for why oi'm not wit' Miz Beth…Well, oi'll tell ee when oi report t' Lord Nightwrath. Where is ee? Is ee here in IronDeep?"

The other mole gave a nod. "Are you'm gonna let that squirrel come too?" He asked, pointing to Elmblade.

The squirrel gave an amused snort. "Ye're sure a polite fellow, aren't ye?"

Before the mole guard could reply, Axburr interrupted, "I don't think it would be too big a deal if'n ee came as well."

Rones stepped forward. "If I may, I'll vouch for Elmblade that he won't cause any trouble."

The mole guard let his axe head fall to the ground and held out a paw to Rones. "Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Zartac." He said. Rones' jaw almost dropped open when he heard that the mole had spoken with no accent whatsoever!

"Ach! How…what th'…" The white-furred shrew stuttered. Composing himself, he clasped Zartac's outstretched paw and shook it. "Ach, I'm sorry. It's jus' that I've never spoken tae a mole that could speak clearly like ye jus' did."

Zartac and Axburr both shared an amused look.

"Yes, that's one of the changes that Lord Nightwrath has done since his rule," Zartac explained, "He decided that all of our young moles were to learn how to speak like other beasts yet allowing to use Mole-Speech if that is what they felt more comfortable with." The mole proudly pointed one of his massive digging claws at his chest. "I'm one of the few older warriors that can actually speak both."

Axburr rolled his eyes, a smile on his face. "An' ee won't ever let uz forget it," He chuckled.

Rosebud suddenly walked forward and raised a paw. "Excuse me, but I'd appreciate it if we could try 'n' hurry so we kin see if your master Lord Nightwrath could 'elp mae brother Tragg before somethin' terrible happens tae 'im."

"Of course, of course," Zartac replied. Slipping back into Mole-Speech, the mole gruffly barked out orders and the rest of the mole guards started to march back through the hidden door.

As Rones and the others followed them, two of the guards walked along on either side of Elmblade, their axes at ready.

"I apologize if we seem untrusting but we've had many troubles with the squirrel clans that live around here."

Elmblade gave a nod to show his acceptance. But as he caught Rones' gaze, Elmblade raised his eyebrows questioningly.

Rosebud just barely managed to catch the subtle wink that Rones gave to the squirrel in reply.

 _We've gotten this far,_ the female shrew thought, _I guess we might as well go the whole way with it. Besides, it's not like they need to know where Elmblade comes from to help us find Tragg._

After the group of creatures passed through the door, one of the moles closed it and bolted it shut, leaving the tunnel that they were in completely dark.

There was suddenly the sound of somebeast grabbing a torch that was hanging from the wall and lighting it, making the passageway glow with the flickering light.

"We normally don't have to use torches," Zartac explained. "We moles are normally pretty good at finding our way around without them. Our ancestors who built Irondeep had designed it for moles that were used to the dark, that way, if IronDeep was ever attacked be enemies, we could just extinguish all the lights and fight in the dark, where we would obviously hold the advantage."

"Hmm… It sounds like yer ancestors were wise beasts." Rones commented.

Axburr led the group through the maze of large tunnels. They would pass groups of moles and the creatures would give them curious looks then drop whatever they were doing and follow them.

Rones looked down at Flugg as his son tapped him on the shoulder. "I sure 'ope these moles 'ave lot's o' food 'idden down 'ere somewhere," Flugg whispered, "'cause I'm starved."

Rones chuckled gruffly as he fondly patted Flugg on the shoulder. "I jus' 'ope that they'll let us stay for lunch at all." He whispered back.

"What do ye think they'll do if they figure out that Elmblade is a Macburl?"

"Shh!" Rones glanced around in the crowded passageway to see if any of the moles had heard what Flugg had whispered. "Let's jus' try tae not find out anytime soon. Okay?"

"Okay."

They continued up and down the long dark tunnels, through huge caverns and past mighty caves filled with the sound of trickling water that came from underground springs.

Flugg thought his footpaws were going to turn into two small stumps from walking so long when Axburr finally declared, "Oo arr! We'm be 'ere, friends."

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 **BETVAR'S UNDERGROUND CAMP**

"'Ere yew are, scum. Eat up."

Tragg glanced up at the fat weasel who was serving him his food. (If food is what you would call the slop of leftovers.) The young shrew's wooden bowl was filled only halfway and since it wasn't that big of a bowl to begin with, that meant that the amount of scraps inside was quite pitifully low indeed.

Tragg looked back down to his bowl. _What I wouldn't give if I could just chuck this…this…_ slop _into that disgusting vermin's face!_

The fur on the back of his neck suddenly stood up as he felt the gaze of somebeast watching him. He glanced around until he finally saw who it was – Bertvar!

The monstrous wolf was standing next to a large cart and was studying Tragg with his hard, clear eyes. When they both made eye contact, the corners of Bertvar's mouth tugged up into a mocking grin.

They both stared at each other a second longer when Tragg felt a tap on his shoulder from behind him.

He turned around and saw that one of the slaves behind him – a skinny female otter dressed in a tattered dress – was holding her bowl and tapping het tail impatiently.

"Would you 'urry up," the female otter growled, "I don't want t' be waitin' in line forever! Move along!"

Tragg scampered out of her way and sat down next to Dunaganwho was wolfing down his half a bowl full of 'food.'

"You'd better eat up, laddie, or somebeast else will be only too happy to take your vittles from you." The hedgehog said, licking his paws in a desperate attempt to make sure that none of the scraps went to waste.

Tragg glanced at his bowl of food once more then picked up a pawfull and started to eat it slowly.

"We've gotta get out o' here," Tragg whispered to Dunagan. "We should try tae escape afore Bertvar decides that he's got enough slaves an' that it's time tae leave fer this corsair island that everybeast 'as been talkin' 'bout."

Dunaganscoffed. "Aye, we need to leave, but how we leave is the real question. Many other beasts have tried t' escape an' as far as I know, none of them have ever made it out alive, unless they're sold as slaves of course."

Tragg tapped his forehead with his paw. "Hmm…come on, Tragg, think!" He muttered to himself. Suddenly, the shrew's eyes opened wide. "What if we could trick a few o' th' guards – 'n' when they're not looking – we swipe a dagger off one o' them? Do ye think ye could 'elp me find a way out o' all these tunnels?"

Dunagan looked sceptic. But after a while the hedgehog closed his eyes and sighed. "Hmm… It could work… Though I doubt we'd be able to find our way out so easily… If it was simple, other slaves would have gotten away by now."

Tragg put a comforting paw on the skinny old hedgehog's shoulder. "I wouldn't want tae leave wit'out ye," the shrew declared. There was some doubt in his voice as he asked, "…I'm going tae at least try tae escape. Ye comin'? Ye don't 'ave tae, I could try tae escape on mae own if ye don't want t –"

Dunagan interrupted him with a short cough of laughter. The hedgehog instantly looked around to make sure nobeast heard him then smiled. "I doubt I'd last long as a rowin' slave, laddie. I might as well die trying to escape with a little hope still in my frail body, instead of dying chained to an oar with a crushed soul."

The two creatures clasped paws in agreement.

"We'll escape," Tragg stated, "after all, its jus' like ye said, we 'ave nothin' tae lose. Besides," He added with a grin, "I don't think there is anything interesting that I'd want tae see on Terramort anyway."

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 _Footnote: For those that are interested, I'll probably have a new poll on my profile page by tomorrow or the next day. Happy reading to you all!_ ~Sebias~


	24. Chapter 23

**Author note**

 **Firestar the Warrior: I'm glad you like Axburr! As for how he'll effect the plot, we'll just have to wait and see, won't we? ;-)**

 **Waycaster: Egbert from 'The Bellmaker' did rather inspire some of my moles. (Or at least in terms of speech. Mole-Speech is so hard to write sometimes…) As for Tragg… Well let's just say that there is a VERY good chance of him and his dad not meeting. But the again, who knows? Maybe they will. – I have too much fun teasing my readers. :P (All things should make sense later on)**

 **The Grey Coincidence: Why yes it should. Keep scrolling down and you should find out. XD This chapter will probably explain why Flugg is suddenly even more interested into vittles. (Though you're right. Food is quite important XD) Yeah, all of the characters are all going through their own obstacles in these next few chapters… Glad you liked the chapter!**

 **JP fanfic: Thanks! I'm glad that you like it so far. (And that you're still reading this at all. XD) Hopefully you'll be able to see signs of improvement in my later chapters.**

00000000000000

 **NORTHLANDS**

The group of creatures waited outside of the large door as Axburr gave it a loud knock, followed by a shout in a language that Elmblade and the others had never heard before.

 _He must be talking in Deep Mole-Speech,_ Elmblade mused, _I remember my father saying that they used it so that strangers or enemies wouldn't be able to understand their orders and passwords._

There was suddenly an answering shout from the other side of the large, wooden door and it was slowly opened with a loud creak as two more mole guards poked their heads out.

"Who'm be 'em?" One of them asked, indicated to the travelers with his mace.

"Jus' sum travelers," Axburr replied. "Iz Lord Nightwrath in th' Trainin' Hall?"

The guard gave a nod and opened the door wide so that they could pass.

When they entered, Elmblade and the shrews glanced about in wonder.

A small underground waterfall was pounding down from the high ceiling on the far side of the cavern, creating a trickling river that flowed through a finely carved canal than ran straight through the middle of the Training Hall. Golden light shone in through large windows and the water bounced the reflection so that it looked like the cavern was filled with shining diamonds.

 _I'll bet that I'm the first squirrel in all of the Northern Clans has seen this,_ Elmblade thought to himself.

A sudden shout rang out from the far side of the Training Hall where a massive ring surrounded by a crowd of moles was carved out of the stone floor.

"Is that where ye do your trainin'?" Rones asked, pointing to the arena that was carved through the stone floor, surrounded by a crowd of moles.

Axburr and Zartac both nodded.

"Aye, that's where we do all of our training," Zartac replied. "Lord Nightwrath is probably over there sparring with some of the warriors."

Flugg tried to get a glance at was going on in the ring, but found it rather unsuccessful. (Being a short shrew was never helpful in these kind of situations.) "Are we going tae go watch?" He asked.

Zartac chuckled in reply. "Yes. Unless you wanted to wait for Lord Nightwrath to finish, it probably won't be that long until he's finished."

Zartac led the group over to the crowd of creatures as the called out advice to the fighters in the ring.

"Oo arr! Give 'im what for!"

"Moi Guddness! Did you'm see that punch?"

"Give 'em a gurt big ol' whack wiv your staff, m' lud!"

"You'm kin do it, go molers! Zuround 'im!"

As the group finally managed to push through some of the crowd of moles, Elmblade finally got to see what the badger ruler of the Black Mountains looked like.

Lord Nightwrath was huge! The badger was dressed in black armor and chainmail and some of his black and white fur was starting to turn a dark grey from age. He was standing in the center of the ring surrounded by ten or so moles armed with heavy-looking wooden weapons. The badger himself was armed with only his armor and two short wooden daggers.

The moles surrounding Lord Nightwrath all charged forward at the same time, all of them trying their best to land the deciding blow that would end the sparring match.

But the badger was too quick. All of the moles were clearly experienced warriors yet he was able to block almost all of their blows with his short wooden daggers. A few of the moles' swings managed to get past his guard and the sound of their wooden weapons hitting his black armor would ring out throughout the ring with loud _thunk!_

Elmblade and the shrews looked at the sparring watch with impressed gazes.

Flugg suddenly reached over and tapped Zartac on the shoulder. "'Ow do they know when tae stop?" He asked, pointing to the fighters. "Do they jus' keep on going till they drop?"

"Ever full of questions, aren't you, young one?" Zartac smiled.

"Aye. That rather describes mae son pretty well," Rones chuckled. "He always likes tae ask questions."

"That's good." Zartac stated hastily. "I hope I didn't give the impression that it was a bad thing. Never stop asking questions, Flugg, because knowledge is a powerful tool if used correctly. Now, do you see the red pieces of cloth tied to the front of all of the fighters' chainmail and shirts?"

"Aye," Flugg replied, nodded his head. "What about 'em?"

"Well, the square cloth represents the heart, so if one your opponent manages to land a blow on red cloth on anybeast then that beast is out."

"Hmm… Interesting," Flugg mused, his eyes darting back once more to the sparring match.

While they had been talking, one of the smaller moles had dropped his wooden staff and leapt onto one of Lord Nightwrath's outstretched arms. The mole clung on, his eyes tightly shut, as the badger tried to shake him off while attempting to block the other moles' skilled blows.

"Oi'm bettin' two bowl o' puddin' that Lord nightwrath moight jus' lose this fight," Axburr declared to Zartac.

The other mole gave him a raised eyebrow. "Do you'm actually want t' bet zum puddin' on it?" Zartac asked.

"Sure."

The two friends both spat on their paws and clasped them together in a pawshake. Then, they both turned back to watch the fight.

Elmblade noticed that Zartac spoke in Mole-Speech whenever he talked to any of the other moles. _At least it's not that rather annoying Deep Mole-Speech,_ the squirrel grinned to himself, _or we wouldn't be able to hear half of what's going on!_

The crowd around them suddenly roared out as Lord Nightwrath finally managed to shake off the mole holding his arm. The moles weren't prepared to let their master rest just yet though. As the rest of the mole warriors attacked from all sides, one of them – a broad, mighty looking fellow – snuck up behind him, and gave a loud battle-cry as he swung his wooden axe at the large badger's unprotected back.

Lord Nightwrath reacted with a speed that was shocking for a creature his size. Spinning around like lighting, he caught the axe with his wooden knife as it came swinging at him. The two weapons met with a _clunk!_

Rones gave a low whistle under his breath. "Ach! That was a great move! Your lord mus' be a fearsome warrior when he's armed wit' real weapons instead of ones made out of wood."

Zartac nodded grimly. "Aye, that's a cold fact that many a bloodthirsty vermin has learned the hard way."

Rones shot another glance over at the large badger plowing through the moles. "I'll bet." He agreed.

Lord Nightwrath had finally caught sight of the group of shrews and the squirrel guests and immediately raised a paw for the sparring match to pause. The entire Training Hall immediately fell silent.

"Very good, my warrior moles," the badger rumbled, a smile on his face. "You have proven to be extremely skilled and fearless. Rest now while I go welcome our guests."

All of the moles instantly turned their heads to stare at the newcomers.

Elmblade wished he could've hidden behind a rock or something when he saw some of the glares that the elder mole warriors shot him. Apparently, the Macburl Clan wasn't the only ones who didn't forget the battle that had happened between their two clans.

Nightwrath walked up to the group and gave them a polite nod. "Hello, I'm Lord Nightwrath, welcome to IronDeep. What brings four weary travelers such as yourselves to these parts of the Northlands?"

Elmblade narrowed his eyes as he studied the badgerlord. The squirrel was making sure that he at least wasn't going to be caught off guard in case Lord Nightwrath was the power hungry beast like all of the Clan elders had said.

Rones, Flugg, and Rosebud, however, seemed to instantly take a liking to the polite badger warrior as the all gave Lord Nightwrath a respectful bow.

"Our clan was a group of wanderers known as the Northtrekkers, m' lord," Rones began. "We had finally decided tae settle by some cliffs on th' Northern shore when we were ambushed 'n' slaughtered by a shipload o' searats. We've decided tae journey tae th' place called Redwall Abbey where we hope we'll be able tae live our days in peace without having tae worry 'bout vermin scum an' th' like."

"Unfortunately," Rosebud said, taking up the tale for Rones, "one o' our group, a young shrew called Tragg – mae twin, had gone missing when we stopped for the night. We were hopin' ye'd be able tae tell us where he might be, or at least help us in tryin' tae find 'im?"

They all watched silence as Lord Nightwrath stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm… Where were you making when your kin went missing?"

"In the valley that runs through these mountains," Rosebud replied.

"Hmm…" Nightwrath stroked his chin some more. "I'll have to talk to some of my commanders first before I can say for certain." He declared. "Speaking of commanders," he continued, "what are you doing back so early, Captain Axburr? Didn't I order you to follow Lady Beth and to protect her with your life if necessary?"

Axburr stepped forward, the look of guilt plain on his face. "Oi'm sorry, zur, oi kin exploin everything."

Nightwrath studied the mole captain for a second with his deep brown eyes. He finally gave an accepting nod. Pointing to Rones, he asked, "What was your name by the way?"

"Rones, sir."

"Very well then, Rones, would you mind coming into my living-quarters so that we can discuss what to do about your missing friend?"

"Aye, that's what we're here for," Rones replied. "Do ye want jus' me tae come, or could th' rest come as well?"

"It's up to you, Rones," Nightwrath replied, "though it might be wise to let the younger ones rest for a bit. I'm assuming that they're quite weary from their journey and hardships?"

Rones glanced over at Rosebud and Flugg and asked, "Would ye two mind stayin' while I go 'n' talk with Lord Nightwrath?"

Flugg shrugged his shoulders. "I guess we might as well try tae rest 'n' grab some vittles."

Rones smiled at his son, then turned to Rosebud and raised an eyebrow. "Well, 'ow 'bout ye, lassie? Ye want tae stay wit' your cousin?"

Rosebud seemed like she'd have rather gone to see for herself what Lord Nightwrath would say, but instead, she sighed, "Aye, I'll go wit' Flugg." Lowering her voice, she added, "Please try your best tae make sure that he'll 'elp us find Tragg. I've jus' got this really bad feelin' like something awful might happen tae 'im soon."

Rones put a comforting paw on her shoulder and patted it. "I'll make sure, lass." Walking up to Elmblade, the white-furred shrew grinned. "If ye're not too tired or 'ungry, Elmblade, I'd appreciate it if ye'd come wit' me. Ye know a lot more than I 'bout how all th' rules work around these parts o' the North."

"I'll come," the squirrel replied, his paw resting idly on the handle of his claymore.

Rones felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see Lord Nightwrath standing patiently. "Well?"

"We're both ready," Rones answered. "I hope ye don't mind if I bring Elmblade as well?"

"Not at all, my friend," Nightwrath declared. "Bring whomever you deem best."

The badger indicated that Captain Axburr and two other moles were to accompany them as well. After he had taken off his sweat-covered armor, Nightwrath led the way through one of the large tunnels to his living-quarters.

Once they had gone, Zartac walked up to Flugg and Rosebud and asked, "Shall I show you both to your rooms, or would you rather get something to eat first?"

"I'd like tae go get foods first if it's alright," Flugg answered, looking at Rosebud questioningly.

The female shrew shrugged her shoulders. "Sure."

Flugg gave his cousin a keen glance as Zartac led the way to the kitchens.

"Are ye alright, Rosie?" He whispered.

Rosebud glanced over at Flugg. "Mae twin is missing – probably in th' claws o' slavers right now. So yes, I've definitely been better."

"Now jus' calm down a bit there, Rosebud," Flugg said, trying to keep his voice somewhat low, "Tragg is not only mae cousin but we've been best friends since we could both walk. I know ye're worried, I am as well! Though let's be honest, would Tragg want ye tae starve yourself because ye're worried about 'im? I'm not saying not tae worry 'bout 'im," he added hastily, "it's jus'…well… I think Tragg would want us tae try our best and find 'im, but not tae let worry get in th' way."

Rosebud didn't reply at first. They continued in silence as they follow Zartac to the kitchens, Flugg thought that Rosebud simply might not reply at all – and really, he couldn't blame her – but then she nodded her head slowly.

"Ye know, I never thought about it like that," she said. "Thanks, cousin."

Flugg gave a grin. "That's what I'm here for," he said. Winking, he added, "Jus' make sure ye don't forget Tragg entirely."

"Oh no problem there," Rosebud said. She gave the other shrew a thankful smile. It felt good to have close friend like Flugg to keep your spirits up.

"I wonder if Zartac heard us?" Flugg whispered Rosebud.

"Not a thing, my friends, not a thing," Zartac chuckled, walking forward as if nothing had happened, the amused grin plain on his face.

Rosebud and Flugg both glanced at each other then they both started to laugh.

"Jus 'ow long were ye listening?" Rosebud asked once she and Flugg had stopped chuckling.

Zartac grinned as they turned left down another tunnel. "Oh… Since the part when Flugg asked how you were doing."

"But that was th' first thing we said!" Flugg declared.

"Was it? Oh well. I guess I heard everything then. I apologize, I should have let you both known sooner but I didn't want to interrupt."

Rosebud rolled her eyes. "Or ye jus' wanted tae eavesdrop." She added playfully.

Zartac looked forward. "Whatever would make you say that?" He asked, though both of the young shrews could just barely see the mischievous look in his eyes as the torchlight flickered brightly.

Zartac led them through one more tunnel that finally led to the main dining room. Walking up to one of the side doors, the mole gave it a hard knock.

"Who'm be it?" A gruff female voice asked from the other side.

"It be'm jus' oi," Zartac replied, once again slipping back into Mole-Speech. "Oi've brought a few 'ungry guests."

The door opened to reveal a short female mole with a welcoming, rather homely face. She was dressed in a light pink dress and wore a pair of small square spectacles on her nose.

"What do ee want?" She asked, "I'm in th' middle o' boiking scones. Oo arr."

"M' lud Nightwrath said t' give our guests zum vittles."

Giving Rosebud and Flugg a glance, she nodded her head. "Alroight, wait 'ere while I goo get zum mushroom scones for ee."

Zartac led them to one of the many large stone tables in the Dining Hall where they all sat down with grateful sighs.

"Ach! I feel like we've been walking all day," Flugg said, not even bothering to stifle a loud yawn.

"Actually," Rosebud commented, "we _have_ been walking all day."

"I know, that's why it feels like it."

Rosebud rolled her eyes. Glancing down at the stone table, she rubbed her paw along the edge of it. "This is a beautiful place, Zartac," she said, "ye must be very happy tae live 'ere."

Zartac smiled and nodded. "It sure is. I doubt there's a place like it anywhere in the Northlands."

They all glanced around the large room in silence as the waited for their food. The Dining Hall wasn't as big as the Training Hall by a long shot. However, it was still an impressive sight and there were a lot of designs that Flugg and Rosebud could stare at and admire all day.

The cook finally brought a plate of mushroom scones and a Deeper 'n' ever pie that was a favorite dish of moles everywhere. After they had finished their food, Zartac led them to two rooms across from each other where they were to rest while they waited for Rones and Elmblade to return.

After the two shrews thanked him for his services, Zartac gave them a polite bow and left, whistling a happy tune.

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 _Footnote: I'm sure you all know the drill. Please review, I love getting advice or hearing thoughts from my readers. Thanks to everyone who has done so already! Thank you to those who have reviewed, followed, favorited, or even read my story so far!_


	25. Chapter 24

**Author note**

 **Waycaster: Yeah, I decided to try to put a few more of the storyline chapters side by side so that the readers would have a chance to wrap their heads around what's going on without it suddenly jumping someplace else. XD**

 **The Grey Coincidence: I know, I can't resist putting at least a little *action* in there every now and then. XD Yeah, as for Lord Nightwrath, we shall wait and see…** **Thanks! I had a lot of fun creating IronDeep in my mind. Hopefully I managed to show a piece of it to you guys in a way that you all thought was cool.**

 **If Lord Nightwrath did decide to kill them I- Actually wait! Maybe I'll let you read and find out for yourself… ;-D**

 **Yup! While Tragg was gone I was hoping to squeeze in a bit more of Flugg and Rosebud. I might want to give Elmblade and Rones their own chapter sometime… *Shrugs* Whenever it fits I guess. :-D**

 **Firestar the Warrior: Thanks! I was hoping to give all of my awesome readers an idea of how I myself imagine some of *my* little world. So I'm glad that you found IronDeep interesting.**

 **Seakard: Thank you, Seakard!**

 **Abrahem: Wow! Three reviews at once! I'm honored!** **Yup, Martin fading will impact the story a bit more down the road. Great guess by the way about Dunagan being Abe's dad. However, the two are roughly the same age (Dunagan being a little bit older) so it might not be completely accurate. (Though chances are** __ **good that they might be related somehow….Or not. Who knows? XD**

 **Another good guess for Lord Nightwrath. We'll just have to wait and see…**

 **JP fanfic: Thanks! I'm glad that you like them!**

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 **IRONDEEP**

"Psst! Hey, Rosebud, could ye open up?"

Flugg stood next to Rosebud's door as he continued to knock on it lightly with one paw and a lighted torch in the other.

The young shrew was taking by surprise when the door was suddenly swung open by Rosebud. She now stood with paws on her hips and gave Flugg an irritated glance. "What do ye want?"

"Err…I can't seem tae find mae rapier anywhere." Flugg said, glancing down at the stone floor. The small pebble by his footpaw was suddenly looking very interesting indeed.

Rosebud sighed and was just about to roll her eyes and ask him why in the world would _she_ know where his rapier was? Wasn't he supposed to take care of it? But before she did, she paused. Flugg was probably worried sick that his dad would find out that he had lost his only weapon. So instead, she asked, "Where do ye remember havin' it last?"

"Well…I know I 'ad it when we entered IronDeep, but then I can't really remember if I had it or not after that. I'm pretty sure that I wasn't stupid enough tae take it out o' mae belt 'n' leave it lying some place, but I jus' can't find it anywhere!"

"Maybe Rones or Elmblade have seen it and picked it up for ye already. Did ye leave it in th' Trainin' Hall?"

"I…don't know… I might've," Flugg said, shrugging his shoulders. "I was going tae try retrace our steps down tae th' Dining Hall. If I'm not back by th' time Dad and Elmblade come back, would ye mind tellin' 'em where I went?"

Rosebud looked rather skeptic. "I don't think ye should jus' wander around 'ere lookin' until your rapier jumps out at ye, Flugg. Maybe ye should wait for the others tae come back."

Flugg shook his head. "They've been gone for a half 'n hour! Who knows when they'll be finished?! Besides, I want tae find it afore they get back."

Rosebud still wasn't sure if it was a great idea, but she gave her cousin a friendly punch on the shoulder. "Alright. But ye better 'urry. Rones won't be too pleased if he finds out ye're gone."

"Okay." Flugg said, clearly relieved. "Thanks, Rose. I owe ye one."

"Hmm…Ye bet ye do," she grinned, shaking her head. "Do ye think ye kin remember th' way back?"

"O' course," Flugg replied, giving her a wink. "I ne'er get lost."

When Rosebud fixed him with another skeptic look, Flugg shrugged. "Okay," he grinned, "I might get lost every now 'n' then. But even if I get lost, this mountain seems tae 'ave lots o' moles running about so I'll jus' ask one o' them for 'elp."

"Okay, I'll guess I'll see ye soon then. – Hopefully with your rapier as well."

Flugg gave her a quick wave then darted down the tunnel.

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 _Okay, I'm definitely lost,_ Flugg thought to himself as he walked down yet another of the long dark tunnels.

 _How are there even so many bloody tunnels in this mountain in the first place?!_

He had been wandering for what felt like hours already and he hadn't found anything that looked familiar in any way. (Though all of the tunnels did look the same in the first place)

He had already been exhausted from walking all day, but now, he almost had to drag himself along.

 _Did these moles have to make ten new tunnels every day or something?_

Flugg was getting extremely annoyed. His rapier was missing, he was dead tired, and it looked like his torch was beginning to flicker out. And out here in the silence, he couldn't help but wonder how Tragg was doing. A tear slowly made its way down his cheek. Would he ever see Tragg again?

"Enough!" Flugg growled to himself. "Tragg is fine! Ye're fine! Everything is fine! Ye'll find your way out, Flugg. Ye ju's 'ave tae use your brain that's all."

Any hope that he had left was suddenly crushed as his torch's flame gave one final flicker and died out, leaving the young shrew in complete darkness.

"Oh great," Flugg grumbled aloud. "Hello? Kin anybeast 'ear me?!" …HELLO!?"

He began to panic and started to run as fast as he could through the pitch black tunnel.

"HELLOOOO!? Stupid tunnels! Stupid torch! Stupid rapier! Is fate going out o' its way jus' tae make mae life miserable!?"

He continued running forward until the inevitable happened; he ran face first into a hard wall.

"HELLOOO– Ow!" Falling over backwards, he clutched his nose and forehead. Both had been smashed quite painfully against the hard surface of whatever it was that he had just run into.

Mumbling under his breath, he stood up and felt the wall that he had crashed into. He was shocked to find out that it wasn't a wall at all! It was a door!

"Well finally!"

After a good deal of grasping and feeling around, he lifted the long board that was kept the door locked.

As he walked out, he blinked his eyes as the sunlight suddenly hit him. Flugg had never loved the smell of fresh air as much as he did now.

"Ach! I wonder why Lord Nightwrath didnae 'ave any guards around keeping watch 'round 'ere." Flugg thought aloud to himself.

Flugg didn't know it, but IronDeep was such a large place that whole sections of tunnels and caverns were lost or abandoned by the warrior moles. As fate would have it, the young shrew had accidently stumbled in one of these old tunnels, which explained why he hadn't run into any moles as he wandered through the corridors.

Flugg looked about and realized that he was somewhere in the same valley that they had first arrived in. Following the sound of the running water he spotted the swift flowing river, he ran up to it and started drinking as much of the cool fresh water in loud gulps.

"Now what do we 'ave 'ere?"

Flugg was instantly grabbed by the back of the neck by a pair of strong claws, fighting desperately for air, he managed to spin around and came face to face with his attacker.

The creature holding him with the iron grip was a large rat. Behind him was a small group of vermin, armed with a wide variety of weapons and different sized whips.

The young shrew remembered one of Rones' lessons and he immediately went as limp as possible.

Once the rat had relaxed his hold on his neck, Flugg brought both of his paws up and smashed them in both of the vermin's eyes.

"EEEHAARG!" The rat let go of him and stumbled backward, pawing at his eyes. "Th' scum scratched me eyes out! Grunner, get th' piece o' filth!"

As the weasel Grunner jumped forward at Flugg with a growl, the shrew dived off into the stream and started to swim as fast as he could. He desperately hoped that none of the vermin would be able to swim.

His head suddenly was smashed under water as Grunner dove in after him and tackled him, making them both go under.

Flugg tried his best to push the weasel away, but apparently Grunner was quite experienced at fighting in the water and held the shrew tight to him with one arm, while he used the other to keep himself afloat.

"Give up, shrew!" The vermin spat as the shrews head bobbed up out of the water.

"Over mae dead body!" Flugg yelled back, trying to break out of the vermin's hold.

Two of the other vermin leapt in the water and dragged them both out of the river.

"This one's a born fighter. I'll give 'im that," the rat that Flugg had punched growled, still rubbing one of his swollen eyes.

"Keep a weary eye on 'im, Grunner, or yew might take 'is place among th' slaves.

Flugg let his head fall forward in defeat. He was captured by slavers and it appeared that he wasn't going to be able to get away any time soon.

 _This day could not get any worse!_

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 **BERTVAR'S UNDERGROUND CAMP**

 _Could this get any worse?_ Tragg thought angrily to himself. He and Dunagan had tried several times already to lure a guard over so that they could try to steal a weapon, but every time they tried, another vermin guard walked over with him.

Tragg was losing his patience very fast. Why couldn't the stupid guards leave each other alone for three minutes? Glancing over at Dunagan, the shrew whispered, "Dunagan, should we jus' call this plan off and wait for later? It doesn't seem tae be workin' very well."

The hedgehog slave shook his head. "No. I heard one of the guards say something about not having to worry about most of the slaves for long because a boat or something is supposed to come soon to pick us up."

After glancing around and checking that none of the beasts around them were spying on them, Tragg said, "I guess we'll jus' 'ave tae try extra 'ard now. Any more ideas on 'ow tae lure one o' th' stinking guards over? Or 'ow tae distract th' rest o' 'em when we do get out o' our ropes?"

Dunagan shook his head. "No, I haven't th- Hey!" The hedgehog suddenly pointed at something on Tragg's belt. "What is that?"

"Oh this?" Tragg glanced down and untied the small tinderbox from his belt. "This is mae tinderbox. Mae father gave it tae me. He said I would need it if I ever 'ad tae start a fire. Why do ye ask?"

For the first time in a long time, Dunagan felt a sliver of hope that they both just might be able to escape the slavers. "I think I might have an idea." The hedgehog replied. "It might just be crazy enough to work."

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Bertvar the Slavemaster was calmly eating a nice lunch of roasted sparrow when one of his ferret guards burst in.

"Fire! There's a fire!"

Bertvar swiftly jumped out of his seat, knocking his chair backwards. "Where's the fire at? What blundering idiot started it?!"

"W-we don't know 'ow it got started, somebeast must've dropped a candle or something by th' tents 'cause that's where th' fire is. It's not that big but th' others said t' tell yew."

The wolf pushed the ferret aside and barged out of the tent. By the time he made it to his guards' tents the fire had already been mostly put out. He scanned the underground cavern to take full stock of any damage that might've already been done. That was when he noticed the burnt ropes lying where Tragg and Dunagan were supposed to be tied.

"Did anybeast move the shrew and the hedgehog from where they were tied?" Bertvar asked a couple of guards who were still beating out the remains of the flames with wet blankets.

"No, sir," one of the rats said as all of the vermin shook their heads. "We 'aven't seen 'em since th' fire started."

It instantly dawned on Bertvar just how a fire would randomly start in the middle of his camp: Some of the slaves were trying to escape!

"Migro! Kelpfur! Gather a score of beasts and secure the rest of the slaves! Five of you stay here and beat on the last bits of the fire. The rest of you come with me. We have some slave hunting to do."

The wolf dropped down to the ground and started sniffing for a scent trail. The smells were a bit jumbled up because of all the beasts that had been running about minutes before, yet Bertvar tracking skills were legendary among the Northern slaver bands.

Bertvar suddenly lifted his head and gave a loud howl that echo throughout the underground caverns.

"ARH-WOOOOOOOO!"

The hunt had begun.

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"I think ye're plan is working so far, Dunagan," Tragg gasped as he and the hedgehog slave ran as fast as they could through the tunnels. "I jus' 'ope we kin find an exit afore Bertvar catches wind o' what we did."

Dunagan managed to smile as he panted, "Yeah, I don't think that scumbag will be too pleased. I wonder if they put out the fire that we started yet."

"I don't know. I 'ope th' vermin won't ever catch up tae us tae tell us whether they did or not."

The tunnels that the two escapers were running through had been designed to confuse creatures that didn't know their way around. Thus, Tragg and Dunagan could have been going around in circles for all they knew. The only thing they had to guide them was a small torch that Dunagan had made.

Tragg's ears suddenly picked up the faint sound of Bertvar's howl rippling through the underground caverns. "Ach," The young shrew groaned. "I think they figured out tha' we left."

Dunagan gave a glance backward down the tunnel. "I think you're right, my friend. Let's make those scoundrels choke on our dust!"

Pausing only to gasp for air, the two creatures ran.

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Grunner commanded for Flugg's paws to be tied and to blindfold him with a smelly rag as he led the band of slavers back to their master's camp.

Flugg gave a surprised grunt as he was shoved roughly through – what he guessed to be a tunnel since he could feel the warm sunlight above him getting cut off.

 _All I wanted was to find my rapier,_ he thought glumly. _I wonder if Rones has gotten a search party to look for me yet. I hope they're not too worried about me._

He was suddenly jerked back as the whole vermin group stopped dead in their tracks.

"What's that?" One of the vermin asked. – Flugg recognized the voice as the rat who had first attacked him. "It kinda sounds like Bert's howling, is th' camp under attack 'r something?"

Grunner shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. But whatever it is, we should probably 'urry back 'n' see what's th' problem, or Bert will 'ave our guts 'n' eyeballs fer decorations."

They shoved Flugg along as they continued their fast pace through the tunnels. Just as they went around a bend, the first two vermin slammed into Tragg and Dunagan as the came charging from around the corner.

It was hard to say who was more surprised, the vermin or the escaping slaves.

"'Ey! What are yew two doing out of yer ropes?" One of the weasels growled, nursing his bruised jaw. "I think I know why Bert's howlin'. These scum must be tryin' t' escape!"

The weasel gave a painful squeal as Dunagan bashed his fist into his nose. Tragg leapt forward and knocked over the rat who was holding the vermin group's one and only torch. The whole tunnel exploded in chaos as it went completely dark.

"Where did those slaves go? Don't let 'em get away, boys!"

"Aye! Bert will probably give us extra rations if we capture 'em."

"I got one!"

"That's me, yew block-'ead! Let go o' me foot!"

"AARGH," a vermin squealed, "somebeast just stabbed me in th' footpaw!"

"Where are those dang woodlanders!?"

In all of the darkness and confusion, Flugg managed to crawl right up to his cousin.

"Tragg? Is that really ye?" Flugg asked, feeling Tragg's face with his tied paws. "We weren't sure if ye were even alive!"

"Flugg!" Tragg cried, wrapping his cousin in a bear hug, "I missed ye! Where's my sister 'n' th' others? Are they still lookin' for me?"

"Enough!" Dunagan's voice hissed as he punched somebeasts face in the dark. "You lads can both talk later. We all need to go now while all these vermin are busy!"

Tragg cut the ropes holding Flugg's paws together with a knife that he found on the floor. Then, holding paws so that they wouldn't get separated, the trio pushed themselves back through the tunnel, as far away from jumbling mess of vermin punching and screaming at each other as they tried desperately to find them.

Grunner finally managed to find the torch and lit it, the flickering flame finally lighting up the tunnel.

Vermin who had moments before mistaken each other for the enemy and fought tooth and nail got off each other and rubbed their wounds, glancing around for any sight of their prisoners.

"Where'd those slaves go?" A stoat asked, spitting out a broken fang.

Grunner was just about to whack the stoat on the head for asking such an obvious question, when he suddenly heard the sound of many creatures charging toward them.

"Quick!" Grunner growled urgently. "Get rid o' that light, it might be more slaves tryin' t' escape."

Holding his spear at ready, Grunner crept forward. He was knocked head over tail as Bertvar the Slavemaster crashed into him. Since he was four times the size of normal beasts, the wolf had been running down the tunnel with his head down. Thus, he didn't see Grunner until he knocked him flying.

Bertvar reached down and helped the weasel onto his footpaws. The wolf's eyes narrowed as he asked, "Grunner, weren't you supposed to collect more slaves?"

"Ye-y-yes, sir. I did. B-b-but I lost them when two of th' escapin' slaves put out our torch-"

"So the slaves _did_ pass this way." The wolf stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm…" Pointing at one of the ferrets, he snapped, "Go back to camp and fetch any other of the spare soldiers. Grunner, you and your group shall come with me. And remember; I have a reputation that none of my slaves have ever escaped. So it would be very bad for you if I thought that any of you were slacking at all."

All of the vermin shook their heads nervously.

"We won't slack on th' job, Bertvar."

"Yeah, we'll fetch th' slaves fer yew."

"Just lead th' way 'n' we'll follow!"

Bertvar gave them a cold, yet half-amused looking smile. "I know you will," the wolf declared, "Because if you don't, I'll kill the lot of you."

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 _Footnote_

 _This chapter's mood kinda swung up and down a bit, going from light-hearted to peril then to an even deeper peril_ XD _but it was fun to write. As always, please read and review! And I shall *see* you next chapter!_


	26. Chapter 25

**Author note**

 **YES! I wrote this chapter in one day! That's a new record for me! (Though I technically didn't write the author note but still.)**

 **The Grey Coincidence: I'm really glad you liked it, Grey! This is probably one of my funniest chapters so far. (At least for me XD) I like your idea about Rones having the rapier. (I won't give out spoilers so…no further comments on that. :-D)**

 **You want poor Flugg to get captured!? How dare you? XD Hmm... That's actually not a half bad idea. (but you know me, I hate giving spoilers in any way, shape, or form. XD) Thank you.**

 **Waycaster: Yeah, three chapters in a row of the shrews are probably good for now. I don't know who Saix is, but his personality does rather sound similar to Bertvar.**

 **Firestar the Warrior: Glad you liked it! It was probably one of my most fun scenes to write.**

 **One-Eye the Wildcat: I know, right! Good ol' Flugg. XD (When I wrote that one line that Flugg had said I was laughing to myself, it was just so fun thinking about how his day would get even worse. XD (Though on the plus side; he did find Tragg, so that good)**

 **SJW: Thank you for trying to be a bit more polite when you try to express your opinions. Uh… I honestly don't think One-Eye would try to impersonate you, SJW… And yeah, I've really only started working on Rosebud's character because I want all the characters in my book to be well developed, be they young or old, male or female, bad or good, and also because The Grey Coincidence mentioned that she should be developed a bit more, and I respect his opinion on character development.**

 **Abrahem: I've got to admit, your last guess was a really good one. By the way, if you wanted to know, Dunagan is actually older then Abe. (I haven't given their official ages yet though…)**

 **JP fanfic: Thank you so much for still reading!**

 **Seakard: Interesting theory. We shall have to see…**

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 **SALAMANDASTRON**

Charlie was staring out at the landscape to the north of Salamandastron as he stood guard with the other recruits. He gave a startled jump as he felt a paw softly tap his shoulder.

"Hey! Remember me?"

Charlie spun around and joyfully gave Amber a surprised look. "Amber? Aren't you supposed to be in the infirmary?" He asked, indicating the cloth that the mountain's doctors had used to wrap around her wound.

"I'm telling you," Amber smiled, "I feel perfectly fine."

Charlie gave a grunt that said that he still wasn't completely sure about that. But then he just decided to let it slide. "So I guess Doc decided to let you out?"

She nodded. "Yup, I annoyed the living fur out of him until he said I was fine enough to take a nice jolly walk around and get a breath of fresh air. So I thought I'd come and see how everybeast was doing." She scoured the group of hares on guard duty behind Charlie. "Do you know where my Dad is? I've been looking for him everywhere and I can't find him! Wot wot."

"Oh, so you haven't heard the news yet…" Charlie didn't want to be the bearer of bad news, but it was better if he told her instead of some blunder-headed cadet like Lagworth or some other beast. "He's on a jolly ol' mission for Lord Rockfur."

"Oh?" Amber tilted her head. "What kind of mission?"

"Err…I think he was going to try t' break through the vermin lines and get help from the Rogue Crew or anybeast else who might be able to help us beat this flippin' horde that's got us surrounded."

"What?!" Amber exclaimed loudly, drawing the attention of some of the other cadets that were also on guard duty. "You mean t' tell me that he has to sneak through an army of thousands of vermin by himself?!"

"No, well…not exactly," Charlie said, trying to calm her down. "He brought nine other hares with him."

"Well what help will they be against a whole flipping horde of those scoundrels?!"

"Shh, Amber, quiet down a bit," Charlie whispered, guiding her a little ways away from where the others who were shooting glances at them, "The rest of the chaps might hear you."

"Who cares if they blooming hear me?! My father could be in trouble right now!"

"I'm sure he's fine. Your dad is one of the best–"

"Well well well. What's going on here?" A very familiar voice asked tauntingly from behind them.

Charlie closed his eyes and winced. Only one hare would be stupid enough to poke his big snout where it didn't belong at a time like this. Turning around, he tried his best to smile at the other cadet. "Good evening, Lagworth. What do you want?"

"Oh nothin'," the larger hare grinned as he towered over Charlie. "I just couldn't help but hear that you are telling Amber 'bout where her dad is. I just thought she'd like to know some facts without you trying to paste sugar over the bitter truth."

"Now is not the time, Lagworth," Charlie growled. "Why don't you go annoy a pillar of rock or something?"

"Because annoying you is a lot more fun!" The bully said, giving him a wink, "unless of course Amber doesn't want to know the truth."

"The truth about what," Amber asked, glancing from Charlie to Lagworth in confusion.

"Oh nothing, it's just that Lord Rockfur has given your father an incredibly dangerous mission that even One-Ear himself might not be able to come out alive from," Lagworth replied. "I just thought you might like to know, that you probably won't see your father again because right after the meeting with the vermin's leader, we saw a troop of 'em marching over to where your father was supposed to be heading."

Amber's eyes went from horrified to hopeless by the time Lagworth had finished. She glanced over toward Charlie, her voice filled with worry. "Is that true?"

"Err…Well yes. B-but just calm down, I'm sure your dad will be able give those rotters following the bally slip. It could even be just a coincidence that the vermin troop was heading over there in the first place. They still might not know about them."

"Hmm…Or do they?" Lagworth grinned. Lagworth was not normally this cruel, especially to somebeast who might lose her father, but as is normally the case with bullies, he didn't quite realize just how far he was taking it.

"Alright," Charlie snapped, he had decided that the bully was going a little too far for his taste. "That's it! You buzz off right now, you mud-brained piece of scum. This is pretty low, even for you."

"Well what are you gonna do about it, eh?" Lagworth asked, taking an imposing step closer to Charlie. "Your father the Colonel isn't here t' help you. Don't think that I've forgotten about that little incident with the Hotroot pepper. If I remember correctly I haven't made you pay yet for humiliating me."

"Well you deserved all of it for being such a bully! Now for the last time, go away and leave Amber alone!"

Lagworth gave the smaller cadet a cold grin and shoved him backwards. "Make me."

Charlie bared his teeth and swung his right paw at the bully's grinning face. Lagworth merely blocked the blow contemptuously with one paw and used the other to give Charlie a painful cuff upside his head.

"Goodness," Lagworth sneered, "being the son of the Colonel has sure makes you soft."

Letting out a howl of rage, Charlie leapt up and head-butted the bigger hare in the face as hard as he could.

Lagworth staggered backward. He was shocked that Charlie could move so fast. He spat on his paw, his eyes narrowing as he saw the red blood that came from his bruised mouth. "You're going t' bloody pay for that, Charlie!"

Lagworth moved forward swiftly and wrapped his arms around Charlie in a wrestling hold before he could do anything to block it. The smaller cadet tried to push and wiggle his way out, but Lagworth had a grip like steel.

"Stop!"

Lagworth's grip suddenly loosened as Amber hurled herself at his back. Giving a grunt, he let Charlie fall to the ground where he gratefully breathed in huge amounts of fresh air.

"You stay out of this, Amber." Lagworth warned, cracked his knuckles. "This jolly ol' fight is between me 'n' him. Wot."

"I don't think so," Amber yelled, walking right up to Lagworth. "You leave him alone right now!"

Lagworth noticed that the other cadets on guard duty with them were stone silent as they waited to see what he would do. Rolling his eyes, the hare shrugged and stepped back, giving Charlie a grin. "Pretty pathetic there, Charlie," he chuckled, "You had t' have a girl come rescue you."

He walked back to where the other young cadets who were all trying their best to pretend like they hadn't seen anything. Most of them hadn't even known what had started the fight, and frankly, they were quite happy to keep it that way. Lagworth wasn't a good enemy to make if you were only a mere cadet.

"Are you alright, Charlie?" Amber reached down and helped the still-gasping cadet to stand back up on his rather wobbly footpaws.

"I'm okay I guess," Charlie replied breathlessly, "It's just that… that… dummy was trying to get you upset just to get even with me. Of all the blooming, low things to d-"

"It's okay," Amber replied, brushing the dirt off of his jacket. "I…I wasn't quite thinking straight myself." She sighed. "I just hope that my dad will be okay."

"Like I said," Charlie put a comforting paw on her shoulder, "You're dad is one of the smartest veterans in the whole bloody mountain. I'm sure he and the other scouts will be fine. And if not, well, there isn't really anythin' we can do about it. After all, do you really think your dad would want you to not focus on defending Salamandastron because you were too busy worrying about him?"

After she was silent for a moment, Amber finally sighed. "I guess you're right. I just hope he comes home safe and sound."

"You and me both," Charlie agreed. He looked out at the sandy dunes where One-Ear's patrol was probably marching at that very second. "You and me both."

00000000000000

 **SALAMANDASTRON'S NORTH SHORE**

Once Lord Rockfur had ordered Sergeant One-Ear to take a squad of hares and to try to reach as many of the mountain's allies as they could for reinforcements, the hare had went about Salamandastron, picking only the fastest and swiftest hares to accompany him.

Once Lord Rockfur and Baro Steelclaws were busy parleying with each other, the group had made steady progress across the sandy dunes north of Salamandastron, determined to get as far as possible before any of the vermin horde could stop them.

"I say, wot. I think the bally vermin must've be napping on the job," a thin hare by the name of Private Lancejack declared aloud, "we might just be able t' make it t' our good ol' otter allies in one jolly piece. Wot wot."

The other hares cast wary glances over their shoulders. Lancejack might be fairly certain that they'd all be able to come out in one piece, but most of them weren't quite so sure.

"Who is t' say that we're not surrounded by those flipping vermin cads as we speak, eh?" Lancejack's sister – a short, white-furred female hare called Private Snowpetal declared, "They're probably hiding out here for all we know, just waiting until we do something stupid."

"I guess we'd better not do something stupid then," Sergeant One-Ear commented from his position in the front of the patrol. "Lord Rockfur is counting on us. Would you rather stay at the mountain and watch as thousands of vermin attack it, while knowing that our cowardice was the reason that no help would come?"

The female scout shook her head. "No, Sergeant One-Ear, but w-"

"Sarge!"

One-Ear turned to see Private Lancejack pointing toward the patrol's right.

"I see vermin, sir!" Lancejack cried. "They're over there behind those dunes to our right!"

"Alright then!" One-Ear said, keeping his face as calm as he possible could. "Nobeast panic, that's th' worst thing we could do right now. Everybeast stick together, we're gonna have to make a jolly run for it. Wot."

"I see more vermin to our left as well, Sarge!"

Cursing under his breath, the Sergeant glanced over and saw that there was indeed a large force of their foes trying to conceal themselves behind the dunes. Apparently, it was rather hard for the vermin to hide anywhere on the sandy terrain due to their white fur and obvious large numbers.

"Time to make our jolly exit, wot," One-ear declared loudly to his patrol. "Full speed ahead, chaps! Let's show them how we can kick up dust!"

His hares needed no second bidding. They all charged forward with the legendary speed of the Long Patrol toward the faint outline of rocky hills where the otters known as the Rogue Crew live. The hares held their weapons at ready in case the vermin got too close for comfort, which was basically anywhere within a ten mile radius.

"Those with bows get prepared to use 'em," One-Ear snapped. "Try t' pick off as many of 'em as you can!"

The sandy dunes suddenly came alive as a sea of white-furred ermine and foxes rose from their hiding places and ran to catch up with the small squad of ten hares.

 _They've got us completely surrounded,_ Sergeant One-Ear thought angrily to himself as he watched his hares shooting arrows at the incoming horde. _I've led them all right to their deaths._

Drawing his longbow, he loosed a shaft at the incoming vermin. It plunged deep into a large fox's neck, killing him instantly.

A female hare on his left side suddenly fell with a gasp of pain, a heavy spear lodged in her back. One-Ear stooped down and grabbed her by the shoulders, but when he tried to drag her up, he realized that she was already dead and let her drop back to the ground.

Up in the sky above them, five crows flew in the morning sky. Every now and then, they'd screech out orders to the ermine and foxes, who were running alongside the hares, firing arrows or hurling spears.

"CRAAAW! Cut dem down! There are only ten of th' rabbits!"

"CAW! Steer dem away from th' rocks, you fools!"

Group after group of vermin soldiers poured out from various hills surrounding the fleeing patrollers as they tried to shoot as many vermin as possible before the vermin crashed into them.

Sergeant One-Ear estimated that there were at least seven-score of the enemy. His breath almost stopped as he noticed that in their excitement to catch their victims, the vermin had spread out and allowed their ranks to get thin in certain sections of the circle surrounding them.

An arrow from one of the ermine archers grazed the sergeant's ear and One-Ear quickly tried to wipe off any blood that might trickle down onto his face. He notched another arrow to his string and let it fly.

"Follow me, chaps! Eulaliaaaaa!" He roared as he charged toward the thinnest part that he could see in the vermin ranks. He shot a glance behind him and saw that to his dismay that there were only six in his patrol left. The other three had been shot with arrows or hit with heavy throwing-spears.

 _Three hares that could have been alive if you hadn't led them out of the safety of the mountain,_ the thought crashed painfully in One-Ear's mind as he almost reached the enemies blocking his path. _No,_ the sergeant growled to himself, _orders are orders, and our orders were to go get help! If it wasn't me leading them it would just be somebeast else, probably with less experience._

The seven hares all smashed through the vermin that stood between them and their freedom. The ermine were no match for the hares of the Long Patrol, even though there were only seven left.

Sergeant One-Ear gave a fat ermine a kick in the gut that sent him sprawling as he roared out the famous war-cry of the warriors that had defended the West Coast for as long as anybeast could remember, "Eulaliaaaaaa!"

The other hares took up the cry, and together, they battered and pushed, hacked and jabbed, kicked and punched their way through the vermin.

A tall skinny ermine armed with battle-axe leapt behind one of the hares and crashed the heavy blade deep into his back, killing him instantly.

 _That makes four of us down so far._ One-Ear growled as he bowled over a fox and slashed open the vermin's throat. _Only six of us left. Hopefully at least one of us will be able to escape and deliver the message for help._

Another hare went down as they finally managed to break through the vermin lines. Another two also went down from the deadly arrows as Sergeant One-Ear and the other two survivors ran as fast as they could toward the outline of rocky hills.

 _That means that there's only me, Lancejack, and Snowpetal left out of the whole patrol._ Tears slid down the veteran's eyes as he ran. Some of the hares that had fallen were young, and even though they might not all had exactly been strangers to war and bloodshed he knew that they had barely seen most of the horror of war and were still too young and innocent to die so early.

The hare Sergeant suddenly screamed as a throwing-spear hit him in his leg. He fell to the ground, the wound burning like blazing fire.

Private Lancejack paused, glancing at him then back at the incoming vermin. They were still a little ways away but they were coming in fast.

"You carry the Sarge to safety," he yelled to his sister Snowpetal. "I'm going to buy you both some time to get out of here. Get to the otters, they'll keep you safe!"

"I'm not going to leave without you!" Snowpetal cried as she lifted Sergeant One-Ear to his paws. "You'll die if you stay! I…I can't lose you!"

Lancejack shook hi shead. "We'll all die if I don't stay. At least this way, you both will stand a chance at escaping." He turned toward the incoming ermine and foxes, brandishing his unstrung bow in one paw and his sword in the other. "Come on, you vermin cowards! Bring it on! My name is Lancejack, killer of scum! Come and taste my blade! Eulaliaaaaaaaa!"

"NO!" Private Snowpetal stopped. She looked helplessly at her brother as he gallantly charged. She shot another swift glance back at where she had left the Sergeant. One-Ear had lost quite a bit of blood from his wound and he probably wouldn't even be able to stand if she didn't help him.

"Alright," she muttered to herself, blinking past the tears that flowed from her red eyes, "I'll make sure you're sacrifice isn't in vain, my dear brother." She helped One-Ear as they both started running once again, trying their best not to look back.

Private Lancejack smiled to himself as he blocked a fox's spear thrust. At least his sister and the Sarge would be safe.

He broke his unstrung bow in two when he smashed it on top of a female vermin's head. Throwing the last bit of it that he held in his paw at a fox, he held his sword's handle tightly with both hands.

He managed to cut down three more vermin soldiers before he lost his sword in the melee, and he was knocked flat as they all leapt on top of him, kicking and hitting him with their spear-shafts and boots.

Four ermine grabbed each of his punching and kicking limbs and held them tightly so he couldn't move.

Lancejack looked up and saw a leering fox standing above him, pointing a saber at his heaving chest. "Yew shall taste nice once yew're skinned and cooked proper," the fox grinned, licking the tip of his blade. "I've never 'ad rabbit before. I'll bet your flesh is nice and soft."

"I'm no rabbit!" Lancejack cried out, spitting on the fox's footpaw. "I'm a hare of the Long Patrol! Even if it's th' blooming last thing I'll do, I'll stick in your throat and make you bally choke! EULALIAAAA–ugh."

The fox had brought his saber up and plunged it down deep into Lancejack's throat, thus died Private Lancejack, a fearsome and perilous warrior of the Long Patrol.


	27. Chapter 26

**Author note**

 **One-Eye the Wildcat: I agree. Very painful indeed.**

 **The Grey Coincidence: I probably do have too much fun playing with my readers, but you never know. Flugg might be destined to get captured yet! Lagworth is basically a real pain in the tail. I didn't know you had crows, can't wait to see 'em! And yeah, Lagworth might just be an informant for the vermin. (Not going to say though, that would take out any of the surprise. XD)**

 **That is an interesting idea about One-Ear dying instead. Hmm… I think if I did that though, Amber would probably hop out of my screen and choke me for giving her such a miserable life so far. XD Then again, One-Ear might not be in the clear just yet.**

 **You might be right about it not being easy. (This chapter just might be able to explain. XD) Happy reading/writing to you!**

 **Waycaster: I didn't quite realize it until you both said it, but he did, didn't he? Yup! I've been wanting to put the Rogue Crew in here for a while now, so you might get to see them in the next few Salamandastron chapters. May your heart also be your guiding key!**

 **Firestar the Warrior: Yeah, that was the general idea. I don't think anyone really likes Lagworth at this point. XD**

 **The Theocentric Thulcandrian: Thanks! Glad you still like the story!**

 **SALAMANDASTRON'S NORTHERN SHORE**

Snowpetal and Sergeant One-Ear had managed to put a little bit of distance between them and their pursuers. Because even though One-Ear could barely run without support from Snowpetel, they both knew the sandy dunes like the back of their paws.

"Look! Right there! One-Ear gasped exhaustedly, "I remember that there's a little hidden cave beside that dune. Let's hide there before the bally vermin come over the hill!"

Snowdrop wiped her red eyes and nodded. Picking up the pace, they reached the sand dune.

"I think…its…right…behind there." One-Ear, pointed a weary paw toward a dead bush. His eyes were beginning to close slowly as he struggled to stay awake.

Snowpetal realized that the sergeant was still bleeding heavily from his arrow wound. She'd have to stop the blood flowing out if One-Ear had any chance to live. "Just hold on, sir." She whispered, guiding him toward the bush. "You can't die now. Not when we're so close."

Her ears perked up as she heard the ermine and foxes snarling and shouting as they looked for them.

She pushed One-Ear behind them dead bush and saw that there was a shallow dip under a slab of hard rock that jutted out of the sand. There was just enough room for at least three hares to squish in, so the two of them fit in comfortably with a little room to spare. After she and the sergeant had crawled in, she pushed up some sand to disguise the entrance even further, though she doubted their pursuers would be able to find it easily since she hadn't even noticed it until One-Ear had pointed it out to her.

Now that they were safe – at least for the time being – Private Snowpetal tried her best to stop the blood from flowing out of One-Ear's leg. She ripped off a piece of One-Ear's sleeve and used it to cut of the blood flow down to his wound by tying it tightly right above it. Then, using the other piece, she tried to clean around it as much as possible.

"Thank…you," One-Ear gasped out weakly, patting her comfortingly on the paw, "I'm sorry 'bout your brother. He was a true hero. Wot wot"

Snowpetal turned her face away as tears fell from her eyes. "Thank you, Sarge," was all she could manage to say. When she looked back she saw that One-Ear had closed his eyes, looking like he was asleep.

She suddenly heard the sound of two ermine stumbling by their hiding place.

"I'm purdy sure they went this way," a rather high, almost screechy voice declared.

"Well it don't matter what yew or I think now does it," a different voice replied, this one's voice was a bit deeper but not by much, "we're 'ere t' follow orders 'n' those orders are t' search everywhere, including this 'ere pile of sand."

Snowpetal heard the sound of sand shifting as the two ermine walked near their hiding place.

"Eh! I think those rabbits must've fallen into some quicksand or somethin', I think– Woah! 'Elp!" The ermine's voice was suddenly cut off as he slipped and slid down the hill, landing right on the dead bush just outside where Snowpetal and One-Ear were hiding.

Snowpetal's paw shot to the long dirk that she wore in her belt. She knew that if the two oafs found them and raised the alarm, the two hares would be good as dead.

Spitting out a few curses, the ermine moaned, "Ouch! I think I landed on a few sharp branches th' size o' a pike! Hey…What's this? Wait just a minute," Snowpetal suddenly saw the vermin poke his head in the entrance to the small cave. "'Ey! I found 'em!"

As the vermin called out to his companion, Snowpetal leapt forward and plunged her dirk into his chest. The ermine screamed with pain, then fell over as Snowpetal pushed him out of the way.

Crawling out of the tunnel, she scanned the hillside, looking for the dead ermine's partner.

She was just barely able to dodge the knife as it shot past her, quickly followed by another ermine armed with a spear in one paw and another throwing knife in the other. He was much bigger than the first one, dressed in a kilt that looked like it was made out of mouse skin.

"Yew killed me brudder!" The big ermine screeched, "I'll kill yew 'n' eat yer flesh fer dat!"

The knife shot out of his paw like lightning and it plunged painfully into Snowpetal's shoulder.

The female hare screamed, diving to the left and landing hard on her side as the ermine tried to skewer her with his spear.

 _I wish I had a something longer than this pathetic dirk,_ Snowpetal thought to herself as she tried her best to crawl away from the ermine's questing spear tip.

The big ermine smashed her in between her shoulder blades with the bottom of his spear shaft. As she gasped with pain, he kicked the dirk out of her paw. Raising his spear, he chuckled darkly. "Bye bye, rabbit."

The grin on his face suddenly froze. The vermin gurgled then fell over on to his side, an arrow sticking out of his back.

Snowpetal stood up shakily. She froze as she saw the silhouette of a tall creature standing in the shadow of the sand dune.

Now 'old on there, matey," the creature said in a friendly voice– Snowpetal recognized the voice as female. "I'm a friend."

Snowpetal reached down and picked up her dirk where the vermin had kicked it. Holding it tightly, she said, "Could you please come out into the bally light? Wot wot?"

The dark figure slid out smoothly into the light to reveal that she was a young otter, dressed in a dark green tunic and a wooden shield and a small axe slung across her shoulders. In her paw she held a longbow. "Hi there," She said, holding out a paw, "My name is Keva Strongbow. Are you from Salamandastron? Do you happen to know where all these 'ere vermin scum came from?"

"I'll answer all your questions soon," Snowpetal gasped, "but my friend needs help. He's wounded!"

Keva glanced at Snowpetal's bleeding shoulder. "It looks like he's not th' only one, mate." Keva put her paws up to her mouth and made a sound that sounded like some type of bird. "Lead me t' your friend, mate. 'Elp should be 'ere soon."

As Snowpetal led Keva to One-Ear, she heard the sounds of battle-cries and screams of pain from behind the dunes.

"What is that?" The female hare asked.

Keva gave a grim smile. "That would be my father's tribe keepin' th' vermin off your tails."

Snowpetal looked over at her with surprise. The hare just realized who she was talking to.

"Y-you're the daughter of Chief Bonecrusher of the Rogue Crew."

Keva nodded. "Aye. I actually didn't get your name yet?"

"Oh! Sorry. My name is Private Snowpetal of the Long Patrol. Wot."

"Pleased t' meet ya, Snowpetal."

Once the two creatures had reached the cave where One-Ear was lying, Keva crawled in and pulled the unconscious sergeant out.

"His wound looks like it might be poisoned," Keva declared after she inspected his wound. "We need to get him t' our healers right away."

Pulling out a wooden whistle, she blew on it, making a sharp, piercing sound echo throughout the area.

Not very long after, a company of eight otters ran up from behind the hill. One of them, a tall, bulky male with pale fur, saluted Keva with his axe. "Yes?"

"I need you t' take this 'are t' the camp as fast as possible. He's injured badly."

The large otter nodded and he and his companions immediately made a stretcher with their shields and javelins. Lifting him up on it, the group marched off swiftly in the direction of the rocky hills that jutted out of the landscape ahead.

00000000000000

 **SALAMANDASTRON**

"Keep your blade up, Urthblaze, so that you can block any thrusts from your foe."

Urthblaze had come up to Lord Rockfur and asked if he would be able to spar with him. Rockfur said that it was a good idea since everybeast would have to be able to fight as hard and skilled as they could if Baro Steelclaws and his allies were still dead-set on trying to conquer Salamandastron.

So far, Rockfur was impressed at how Urthblaze was holding up against him. The young badger had boundless energy and had quite a bit of strength behind his blows. They were both using metal swords that Rockfur had purposely not given edges to, just for special occasions like this. Since they were basically real swords, they made the wielder get used to the weight of it, yet they weren't too dangerous to spar with. Unless of course they swung with all of their might, then one of them could get a broken bone, so they did have to be careful.

Urthblaze gave a thunderous growl and swung his blunted sword at Rockfur's head, which the badger blocked, making Urthblaze grunt as he turned to block into a parry. The older badger might not be quite as young as he once was, but he had been fighting vermin his whole life, thus making him a walking, talking instrument of death when it came to blades.

"It's good that you use your strength," Lord Rockfur commented, "But don't put too much force behind them. You could lose your balance if you missed."

Their swords met once again with a crash as Rockfur took the offensive. "Good. Very good," the badgerlord would comment whenever Urthblaze blocked or countered his blows.

"Stay light on your feet. A slow beast is a dead beast."

Their sparring match continued a bit longer. After they were both heaving for breath, Rockfur finally put down his sword. "This is good for today. I must give my bones a rest. I'm not as young as you."

"You can say that again," Urthblaze chuckled, setting his blunted sword down next to Rockfur's.

Rockfur pretended to give a mock gasp. "Who are you calling old? Only I can call myself old. Just remember, with age comes wisdom, my very young friend."

Both laughing, they walked over to where Colonel Brewster stood watching them, a large pitcher of water held in his paws.

"I say, sah. You both look rather thirsty, wot."

"Indeed we are, Colonel. Thank you."

Rockfur took both of the large wooden cups from Brewster and filled them, passing one to Urthblaze, who downed it one with huge gulp.

"Slow down there young un'," Brewster smiled, "I only brought one pitcher. Not a whole lake!"

Taking a sip from the small cup, Rockfur asked, "Any news about One-Ear and his patrol."

"I'm afraid not, sah."

The badgerlord looked at the water in his cup. He heaved a sigh. "Baro said that they wouldn't come back alive. I hope that he was just trying to scare us."

"I hope so too, sah." Brewster replied. "I've known Sergeant One-Ear for a while now, I trust that he'll do his best to make sure they make it through in one piece."

"I wish I had been there at the meeting," Urthblaze growled, squeezing his wooden cup with his mighty paws. "I'd have made that wolverine and his murderous followers eat his words!"

"Patience is key in battle, young one." Rockfur smiled, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he added, "Besides, you are my secret weapon. If Baro knew that I was training you, he'd probably start running back to where he came from, with his tail in between his legs."

While the three beasts had been talking, a short cadet had entered the room quietly then ran up and tapped Lord Rockfur on the elbow.

"Sah, sorry for interrupting, but the jolly-ol' Head Cook was hopin' to see you, wot."

Lord Rockfur inwardly sighed. Such was the life of a badgerlord. "Would you both excuse me?" He asked Brewster and Urthblaze. "I should probably go check on that."

"Do you want me to come with you, sah?" Brewster asked, raising his eyes questioningly.

"Hmm…" After a brief pause, Rockfur shook his massive striped head. "I don't think that would be necessary, Colonel. Could you actually do me a favor though? Would you mind sparring with Urthblaze a bit?"

Brewster shot Urthblaze a glance. "Err… I could try, sah."

"Good. Thank you, Colonel. I'll try to be back soon."

After the badgerlord had left with the messenger, Brewster shook his head and grabbed a long, blunted sword that was hung on a rack. "Okay then," he grinned at Urthblaze, "Shall we begin?"

000000000000000

 **BARO STEELCLAWS' CAMP**

Hookarm was in a foul mood. The one-armed searat captain felt like Emperor Baro had purposely lost the element of surprise by waiting to parley with Lord Rockfur, thus taking the mountain fortress even harder.

"Why couldn't th' big brute jus' walk up 'n' take the mountain th' first bloody moment we got 'ere!" He asked Blue-Eyes the weasel as he paced up and down in his tent. "All together we've got 'bout six thousand troops! We could crush 'em! Granted, we'd probably lose quite a few soldiers but what else are they for after all?"

"I think the vermin under our command would beg to differ, Captain Hookarm," Blue-Eyes replied, rubbing an apple on his silk sleeve. "Though I must admit I am rather puzzled at Baro's choice of action, I shall watch keenly to see his next move."

"Yew 'n' me both," Hookarm replied. The large searat had finally decided he had paced long enough and plopped down into the chair opposite of Blue-Eyes. "King Bloodfur is gonna want results. All we kin say is that his new ally buddy is very good at a children's game!"

"I've actually played 'Game of Armies and Kingdoms' before," Blue-Eyes commented, taking a bite out of the rosy-red apple, "It's a very good way to keep the mind sharp."

"I completely agree with you, Blue-Eyes."

Hookarm stood back up as Baro Steelclaws pushed through the tent entrance. Blue-Eyes, however, remained seated, eating his apple.

"Yew sure seem t' like being everywhere at once, Emperor." Hookarm stated, his eyes darting at the wolverine suspiciously. "Shouldn't yew be directing yer troops or somethin'?"

"No." Baro replied with the same kind of calm voice that he always used. "I have many captains who are quite capable."

"As have we," Hookarm countered.

Baro merely rolled his eyes. "You seem like the type who must always have the last say, captain."

"Well if yew're jus' figurin' that out then yew must be rather slow…"

Blue-Eyes let out a sigh. It seemed like he had to stop the two beasts from arguing every two minutes. "Excuse me?" He asked, raising a paw. "But I think you both are forgetting something rather important; we need each other to succeed. So let's start acting like we can at least stand next to each other without making an explosion, hmm?"

"Ever the wise one, eh Blue-Eyes," Baro chuckled. "You know, I could always open a spot for you in my service if you ever wanted to stop playing side-kick to these corsairs."

"My loyalty is to King Bloodfur and that is where I plan to keep it, Emperor Steelclaws. Thank you for the offer though."

"Hmm…" The wolverine replied, "Alas. That was the answer that I was expecting."

"We're getting' a bit side-tracked 'ere?" Hookarm suddenly asked, pointing in the general direction of Salamandastron. "Are yew going t' tell us what yew're plans are fer th' attack?"

"Not an attack, Captain, but a siege." Baro shook his head. "Honestly, must I repeat myself all the time?"

"Fine," Hookarm replied, "any plans for the 'siege'?"

"All in due time Captain, all in due time. Just be patient."

Blue-Eyes glanced over at Baro. He decided that Hookarm actually did have a point. The Emperor was keeping most of his plans close to the vest and Blue-Eyes was beginning to wonder why he was being so secretive. However, until he was certain something was wrong, the weasel wouldn't want to say anything that could destroy the alliance.

The weasel picked up a dagger that was lying on the table before him and tapped his chin with the cold blade. "Hmm… Are we waiting for anything in particular, Emperor?"

The wolverine shook his head. "Not really. Just until their food supply runs out."

"Well all o' this blasted waiting is takin' forever!" Hookarm growled, "We should at least do _somethin'."_

"Like what, Captain?"

The searat wasn't put off by Baro's question for a second. "'Ow's 'bout we try t' sneak in 'n' poison there food? What if we do somethin' besides sit 'ere an wave at 'em as they sit on their tails!?"

"I have a better solution." Baro walked closer so that he towered over Hookarm. "You use _your_ creatures to do whatever you wish. Mine shall only follow my orders. So if you have a plan, then do it."

Hookarm gritted his teeth together as he tried to remain somewhat calm. "King Bloodfur only gave us a thousand troops for this little party, and we're using most of 'em t' crew th' ships. Why don't yew jus'–"

"Are the pair of you completely blind?"

Baro and Hookarm both turned slowly to glare at Blue-Eyes. The weasel was sitting calmly in his chair, keeping his eyes on the dagger in his paw as he spoke, "Can't you see what is happening? Soon, it wouldn't matter if there are five hundred hares in the mountain or just five, because you two would have split our forces in two and killed each other off."

Blue-Eyes rubbed his forehead. "Let's face it; Baro, you need our ships to transport your armies and to boost your numbers. Hookarm, our king ordered us to try to conquer the mountain. Even five hundred hares would be almost impossible to defeat with only a thousand corsairs. So let's just calm down and try to plan like somewhat civilized beasts."

Hookarm rolled his eyes. "Fine." He sighed, "Whatever." The searat stepped forward and held out a paw.

Baro shook Hookarm's paw.

"Now that that's taken care of," Blue-Eyes declared, standing up and looking at a large amp sprawled on the table, "Let's figure out how to bring Lord Rockfur and his mountain hares to their knees."


	28. Chapter 27

**Author note**

 **One-Eye the Wildcat: Yup! She's in alright!**

 **Firestar the Warrior: Lol. XD Yeah, I felt like I needed to have a bit more of Urthblaze so I decided to give him and Rockfur a little bonding time.**

 **Waycaster: I don't think anyone was really expecting Keva's appearance. (Except Keva herself. XD) I briefly mentioned the Rogue Crew in the beginning but I decided it was high time for them to get their tails into the plot. XD Yay for teamwork but…I'm not sure that it'll be good for Salamandastron. XD**

 **The Grey Coincidence: I guess I *am* a pretty cruel writer. XD Yeah, there is one book (Salamandastron I believe) where there were four badgers, but I still have a rather generous amount of the striped chaps, don't I?" XD**

 **The villain's all have a different idea of strategy I guess, and you're right, Hookarm's does make sense. (That's why Blue-Eyes tried to link both of their ideas together I guess)**

 **True, butI think if Hookarm went to abbeyschool he probably wouldn't be a corsair in the first place. XD**

 **Socca Kingkiller: Thanks! I hope you enjoy the rest!**

 **JP fanfic: Thank you for all of your reviews so far. They are very in depth. I'm glad that you like the names! (It gets a little hard to find original ones after a while. XD)**

 **And now, on to the chapter!**

00000000000000

 **TERRAMORT**

As they made their way to Fort Bloodgard, King Bloodfur showed Captain Slisk and her First Mate around the island. A few things had changed since Slisk had been at Terramort and the rat king wanted to show how things had improved. Though there were still a few places that Bloodfur purposely avoided. After all, there was no need for him to show _all_ of his secrets, especially to Slisk of all rats. Bloodfur still had his doubts about the female rat.

"An' those are th' Coal Mines." Bloodfur declared from where he stood with his searat guards. Pointing a claw toward the massive caverns, he continued, "We dug them not long after yew 'ad left raiding. Apparently there 'ad been quite a lot of coal underneath Terramort that nobeast 'ad ever known 'bout, until now that is."

Slisk gazed out at the crowds of slaves who carried out carts of the dark coal. "Why so much focus on coal, yer majesty? I would've thought that y' would 'ave better things fer yer slaves t' do, like building more ships or rowin' 'em."

Bloodfur stared at the female corsair for a full minute before replying. "I never do anythin' by accident. Never forget that. If I want my slaves te gather coal then by thunder they will!"

Slisk shrugged. "It's yer island 'n' yer slaves I guess."

"Aye."

Bloodfur stared out at the creatures working in the coal mines for a second longer before he signaled for Bruggor and his other guards to continue to Fort Bloodgard.

The massive searat fortress had been built on a steeply sloped hill for defensive purposes. Along the eastern side of Fort Bloodgard there were taverns and houses where any of the vermin who weren't fighters or workers lived. Smoke rose into the sky from numerous chimneys as the vermin cooked their food.

"Th' town 'as gotten bigger," Slisk commented as the group of rats passed through the town on their way up to Fort Bloodgard's gates. "'Ave a lot more corsairs moved 'ere since y' became king?"

"Aye," Bloodfur replied, he chuckled as he continued, "It must 'ave been all of th' many rumors 'bout my might 'n' wealth that dragged 'em all out from where they were hidin'."

The rat king's words actually had a ring of truth to them. Terramort hadn't had a ruler since the time of Gabool the Wild, and once Gabool had died, the lot of the corsairs had packed up and left to try their luck elsewhere. However, since the rise of King Bloodfur, corsairs, pirates and searats all started flocking back once again to Terramort. They had missed the days when the woodlander crews were utterly terrified when they saw the corsair pennants on the horizon.

Seasons later, vermin and mercenaries of all sorts were still arriving to pledge their allegiance to King Bloodfur in exchange for food, gold, or power.

Once they reached Fort Bloodgard's main gate, Bloodfur yelled up to the guards stationed on the wall and the mighty gates were swung open.

They walked across the wide courtyard until they reached the Throne Room.

Once they entered, Bloodfur walked up to his massive throne and sat down gracefully, Bruggor remained standing at his side at ramrod attention along with the other guards.

"So, Slisk," Bloodfur began, "How 'as th' outside world been lately? Tough?"

"Eh, not _too_ bad." Slisk nodded to Raggar and the First Mate ran over and grabbed a chair for her to sit on that he found by an empty table.

Sitting down, she glanced back up at King Bloodfur. "So let's just cut t' th' chase, shall we? I would be honored if yew would let me and my crew join yer ranks. Yew'll promise us protection 'n' a safe place t' dock our ship 'n' we'll split all of our future plunder with yew."

Bloodfur grinned. Leaning back on his throne, he tried his best not to grin. "I thought th' fearsome Capt'n Slisk didn't need help from anybeast. I must admit, I'll sure be pleased t' let th' other fellers know that even yew still need my protection."

The female rat grunted in reply.

Bloodfur could guess that Slisk was probably fuming at his words. He reminded his self not to take it too far. He needed more recruits as much as they needed him.

"So…do we 'ave a deal, _yer majesty_?"

Even though he didn't exactly like her tone of voice, Bloodfur smiled. "Of course! Welcome t' our 'appy family! I'll 'ave my beasts write up a contract by tonight."

"Thank yew. Now, y' must excuse me, I need te find a tavern fer my crew 'n' I te rest at while we're waiting."

"Of course! I'll send a few of my guards te show y' te the best taverns!"

"Thank y' fer yer generosity, yer majesty, but we should be able te find one just fine on our own."

Bloodfur shrugged. "Do whatever y' want. I'll be waiting 'ere tonight fer y' with the papers ready for yew to sign."

Slisk and Raggar both bowed to the Searat King then walked out, escorted by two rat guards.

"Bruggor?"

"Yes, yer majesty?"

"Send somebeast te follow 'em – Probably one of th' foxes if possible. I want te know where they are stayin' and if they're up te anythin' out of th' ordinary."

"Yes, yer majesty."

As Bruggor walked out the Throne Room, the small side door to Bloodfur's right opened slowly with a loud creak, and Queen Gabriella walked in and up the steps that led to her small throne beside Bloodfur's.

"Gabriella," Bloodfur smiled, "how are y' feeling, m'dear?"

"Just fine, thank you."

The female rat was dressed in a long, flowy, purple dress that she tried to straighten with her paws as she sat.

"How's our little prince doing?"

Gabrielle's smooth mouth curved into a smile. "Quite well. He bit one of the maids when she tried to clean up after him earlier today."

"Har har! He sounds like a little fighter already," the Searat King chuckled. "He must be takin' after me!"

"That he is," Gabriella replied, "Would you like to go see him? He's playing in his room."

Bloodfur shook his head. "Not now. There are some very important things I need t' figure out with some of th' newer captains."

"Oh," Gabriella said disappointedly, "I guess I should probably head back and check on him then."

"Good idea. Make sure he doesn't bite off anybeast's paws, wouldn't want any blood te stain th' floor," Bloodfur chuckled to his wife as she made her exit. Bloodfur remembered the time when _he_ had stained the sea with blood when he had fed a crew of mice to the sharks. But that was back when he had been nothing more than a mere captain in charge of one, leaky, old ship. Now, he was the ruler of a whole kingdom of ships and vessels. It was funny he thought how one's fate could change so dramatically if a beast put his mind to something.

Bloodfur looked up as he heard Captain Bruggor re-enter the Throne Room and clomp up to Bloodfur, bowing low as he declared, "I sent a scout after Slisk like y' ordered, yer majesty."

Bloodfur nodded. "Good work, Bruggor. Let me know when he returns."

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Once they made it back to the dock, Slisk sent Raggar to gather the crew and to meet her at a tavern that they had passed on their way back.

 _The Rusty Cutlass_ was one of the newer taverns. It was owned by a large fox who called Barko Irongut and his family. The fox was cleaning a wooden mug with a rag when Slisk and her crew walked in.

"Kin I 'elp yew?"

Slisk walked up to the bar and slammed a dagger down into the wood. "Drinks fer me an' th' 'ole crew!" She pulled up a small bag of gold coins. "And make that some of yer finest rooms as well!"

Barko snatched the bag of coins and smiled. "Of course. Only th' best of th' best fer my customers."

Slisk grinned back and pulled her dagger out of the counter. "Good."

After she had grabbed herself a drink of seaweed grog, she sat down at a small table in the corner of the room, beckoning Raggar and a skinny weasel called Fang over to sit with her while they waited for their drinks.

She glanced around to see if anybeast was watching. She was surprised to see a young fox watching them from the doorway. Seeing how young and dirty he was, Slisk decided that he was probably nothing more than a curious tramp.

A pretty vixen –who Slisk assumed must be one of Barko's daughters since she had similar eyes and nose– walked up with a tray with two mugs on it and set it down on their table, before walking off.

Once she was gone, Slisk turned her back to the dirty fox who was causally standing by the door, and began to speak in a quiet voice, "So, Fang, did y' find everythin' that I told y' te get?"

Fang nodded his head. The small weasel rarely spoke if he could help it, though that didn't mean he was any less intelligent then anybeast else in the crew. If fact, it only made him more mysterious.

"So what do y' want us te do next, Capt'n?" Raggar asked as he sloshed down his ale. "I thought y' 'ad a plan te take this island fer yer own?"

Slisk kicked Raggar's footpaw as savagely as she could without attracting attention. "Shaddup, y' idiot! Nobeast is supposed te hear a word 'bout anythin' yet. If King Bloodfur ever figured out th' real reason why we're 'ere, he'd 'ave our 'eads impaled on th' end of a pike 'afore y' could say 'knife'!"

After she calmed herself down, Slisk continued, "Now listen, if we killed th' King now, then who's t' say that we'll become the next rulers? I'm sure that there are lots of vermin captains who would fancy callin' themselves ruler of Terramort as well, so we got te wait fer th' right time."

Raggar scratched his ear. "But 'ow kin yew make sure that we'll come out on the top in th' end? Because I doubt that King Bloodfur is going te name y' 'is successor anytime soon since he already 'as a queen 'n' heir."

"Yes." Slisk said, cleaning the tips of her claws with her throwing knife. "Those two are going t' be a problem that must be solved. Don't worry 'bout 'em though. I'll take care of 'em personally when th' time is ripe."

Ragger and Fang both glanced at each other. They had seen what had happened to beasts that Slisk had said that she would "take care of personally."

"Now," Slisk continued, "until then, I want–" the captain suddenly stopped. Taking a peek behind her, she saw that the dirty young fox that had been standing by the door had slowly made his way closer to them. His eyes were almost purposely avoiding them as he looked around the room of jostling and drinking pirates.

"Hmm…" Slisk tapped her chin with her knife. As the pretty vixen who was serving drinks walked by their table, Slisk grabbed her by arm.

"Excuse me," Slisk asked, "What do they call y' if I may ask?"

"Vixera," The female fox replied, "Did you need something?"

"Yes. Y' see that young fox over there in th' corner?" –Slisk pointed at him with her knife– I'll pay yew te distract 'im fer a while."

"Er… Distract him?"

"Yes!" Slisk sighed, rolling her eyes. "Distract 'im. Talk 'bout th' weather or somethin', just get 'im away from 'ere."

Seeing that there was still some doubt in Vixera's eyes, Slisk pulled out a solid gold coin. "'Ere," –she flicked the vixen the coin– "There's more where that came from if y' 'urry up 'n' do a good job."

Vixera smiled and pocketed the gold coin. Taking the tray, she went back to the counter and put three large cups of seaweed grog in them, then, she made her way to the young fox who was standing not far from Slisk's table.

"Hello," Slisk heard Vixera say to the male fox sweetly, "I think I miscounted an order, would you mind drinking these?"

"Er…uh… Sure." The fox stammered in reply.

Slisk, Raggar, and Fang continued to watch the two vulpines in silence until the dirty fox had drank two of the cups and started reaching for the third.

"Hehehe," Raggar chuckled silently, "That young 'un is probably gonna 'ave one 'ell of a 'eadache when he wakes up."

After the dirty fox had started to find it difficult to stand without wobbling, Vixera leaned on his shoulder and whispered something into his ear.

The fox nodded his head and allowed Vixera to help him over to a table in a different room.

"I wonder if he was one of Bloodfur's spies…" Fang wondered aloud.

Slisk shrugged. "Whoever he is, he seemed te be taking too much interest in our conversation then I liked. At least now we won't 'ave te worry 'bout 'im."

"Would you like me to…" Fang paused for a second, " _dispose_ of him, Captain?"

The searat shook her head. "No, that would only cause unwanted attention. Now, back to business, we need te 'ead back te Fort Bloodgard te sign those papers once Bloodfur gets them ready."

"Will y' sign them, Capt'n?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't I? After all," Slisk grinned, "I'm supposed te be one of Bloodfur's most loyal captains!" Slisk raised her mug of seaweed grog. "Te King Bloodfur."


	29. Chapter 28

**Author note:**

 **Seakard: Yup! Lots of spying and such is going on at Terramort.** **The coal mines aren't directly under the castle but that would be a very good way to try to take out the pirates.**

 **Waycaster: Yes, the glorious (Or maybe just short-lived, who knows?) rivalry has been born!**

 **The Grey Coincidence: Yeah, Slisk might have a tuff time trying to get the throne, but hey, anything is possible. (Maybe unlikely, but possible none-the-less.) Yup! Gotta feed those sharks! XD**

 **Your right, Bloodfur should probably spend more time with his son. Or then again, he might just teach him to feed innocent beasts to the sharks… XD I'm glad you like the building up of Terramort. (It was fun to write.** **)**

 **Firestar the Warrior: We hopefully will get to see a bit more of Gabriella and the High Prince in the next Terramort chapter. (Hopefully they will live that long. XD)**

 **JP fanfic: Thanks! I've always loved history so I like to try to squish in some history if it fits into the story nicely.**

 **Thanks you reading and reviewing, everyone!**

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 **MOSSFLOWER WOODS**

Sebias, Gerardo, and Sam had been walking for almost a full day now, stopping only to eat a brief lunch. They kept going west until they had hit the River Moss, then, using an old log that they found, drifted across the river without too much trouble. Martin hadn't said how far they were supposed to go, so Sebias assumed that they had better just keep going until they found whatever (or whoever) they were supposed to find.

The thick forest floor was getting more and more difficult to walk through as the evening dragged on, and their paws got even more tired.

"Do you think we could stop for dinner now?" Sam asked wearily as he plodded behind Sebias and Geradro.

Gerardo shrugged his shoulders. "It sounds like a good idea to me. What so you think, Sebias?"

Sebias dropped his haversack to the ground and grinned. "Yew don't need t' ask me twice, mates! My paws feel like they're about to fall off!"

Sebias and Sam both sat down on a fallen log and began to paw around in their bags for food. Gerardo held up a paw for them to stop. "Wait. Maybe we should try to find a place a bit more hidden."

Sam pulled an apple out of his pack and bit into it with a loud _crunch._ "Nah. I'm exhausted. Besides, I don't see anywhere else that looks any more hidden than right here."

"Hmm… I don't know," Sebias said thoughtfully, looking up from his bag, "Skipper always told me that whenever y' made camp that y' were supposed t' make sure that it was 'idden and easy t' protect."

Sam rolled his eyes and grinned. "Well if you think about it, if there was a perfect camp somewhere close by, somebeast else would've already taken it by now."

Gerardo shrugged and Sebias decided that Sam was right. After all, they _were_ tired and Martin the Warrior didn't say that they were going to bump into unsavory characters on the road (If one would call a small trail through the woods a road).

Gerardo fished through his supplies and found a large piece of bread that he loaded up with a big piece of cheese that he had wrapped in a cloth, and a slice of a tomato that was beginning to look rather soft after being jostled around in a haversack all day.

Sebias dug around in his pack and pulled out a piece of oatcake. Sighing contentedly, he prepared to bite into it.

"Oatcake!" Sam exclaimed once he saw what Sebias was eating, "Did you bring any more?"

The young otter immediately closed his haversack and hugged it protectively with both paws. "Yes," he replied, "but keep yer scoffing paws off of 'em. I packed 'em, I should be the one t' eat 'em. Didn't you pack food?"

"Well…yeah, but I didn't bring any oatcakes." Sam suddenly held up his half-eaten apple. "I'll trade you my apple for one!"

"Er…no thanks, Sammy." Sebias smiled, "You can keep yer apple. I wouldn't want t' deprive you of your healthy food."

"Okay." Sam sighed, nodded his head, "I guess it's fair that you get to eat them. After all, whoever grabbed them should keep them."

Sebias relaxed his hold on his haversack and smiled, looking at his oatcake. "Thanks, Sammy. I might– Hey!"

Once the young otter had set down his bag, Sam darted a paw out as quick as a snake and grabbed it. Giving a triumphant yell, he charged off into the trees with it.

"Hey! Get back 'ere with that!" Sebias said as he leapt off his log and tried to catch the squirrel. He found out that it was like trying to catch a greased eel at the bottom of a lake.

"Um… No," Sam replied, chuckling, "We wouldn't want you to get fat all by yourself, now would we?" Charging up an oak tree, the squirrel waved the haversack above Sebias' head.

The otter tapped his footpaw. "Sam! Yew'd better get down that there tree in two seconds or I'll come up 'n' get yew."

"I don't think that you'll be able to out climb a squirrel," Gerardo commented from where he stood, eating his food calmly as he watched his two friends charge about like two rabbits that had been kept in a wooden cage too long. "I guess we'll just have to see what food _he_ packed in _his_ bag."

"Ah, good idea, Gerardo."

Ignoring Sam completely, the otter and mouse turned toward the bulging bag of "supplies" that Sam had brought with him. It was common knowledge that the squirrel thought quite highly of his vittles, and that he probably had packed a portable feast with him.

"Mmm… Yum! He packed a flask of strawberry cordial!"

"And would y' look at that, mate, he even 'as a small bag of candied chestnuts, an' my favorite kind of nut bread too!"

Sam shot back down that tree so fast that he looked like a red blur. "Give me that!" He snatched his bag back from the two grinning beasts. "Fine. I'll give your haversack back, Sebias."

The otter clapped him on the back. "Why thank y', mate." Grabbing his bag he poked his head in. "Now, let's see what else I've got for dinner– Wait!" Sebias suddenly pricked his ears up as he heard a muffled sound of somebeast yelling out in pain. "Did y' hear that?"

Gerardo and Sam both titled their heads in the direction that Sebias pointed at.

"Er… I don't hear anythi– Hold on!" Gerardo held up an excited paw. "I do hear something!"

"It sounds like somebeast in trouble!" Sam grabbed his bow as he swung his haversack back on his shoulder. "Let's go see what the problem is!"

The trio grabbed their walking spears and other weapons and ran through the thick forest toward the sound of the shouting. Sebias realized that there actually were more than one voices calling out. The otter clung to his javelin as he wondered what could be happening.

They crashed through the bushes until they had almost reached the source of the shouts, when Gerardo raised his paw. "Wait a minute! We shouldn't just go charging in like a pack of vermin. Let's try to figure out what's going on first."

The others nodded in agreement and they all crouched down and crawled forward the last few yards. Poking his head through the brush, Sebias finally saw what was causing the racket.

A group of roughly a score and a half of ferrets had surrounded a young scarred otter and were beating him with rods and sticks. The creature's paws were tied so that he couldn't defend himself and Sebias realized that he must have been the one who had been shouting.

"Slavers," Sebias growled. "They must 'ave caught 'im an' decided t' beat 'im for fun!"

Sam bared his teeth and notched an arrow to his bow. "I say we give 'em all we got an' charge in and free the otter before things have a chance to go south!"

"Charging in without a plan might just be the way to make things go south," Gerardo countered, clutching his dirk in one paw and his throwing spear in the other. "Let's wait and see for the best chance t' strike."

Sebias nodded his head in agreement and after a brief moment, Sam did the same.

"Okay," Sebias declared, "Sam, y' stay 'ere and cover us with your bow if anythin' goes wrong. Gerardo, y' sneak over t' the left an' I'll crawl over t' the right. Once we're ready, I'll give a whistle an' all three of us will pounce at once. Got it?"

"Aye."

"Okay."

Sebias readied his javelin and let out a quiet breath to stay calm. "Alright then, let's go."

The young otter crawled off toward the right, trying his best to make sure to follow what Skipper had taught him and use every bit of cover he could find. He made it behind a clump of rocks, and poked his head over to see what was happening in the clearing.

The ferret band had finally stopped beating their prisoner long enough for a short light-furred ferret to scowl out, jabbing a spear in the air, "Tell us where th' rest of yer gang is, riverdog, or I'll run m' spear right through yew."

The scarred otter raised his head proudly and spat in the ferret's face. "You don't know who you're dealing with, ferret! I'm Tharko, son of Tharno! You had better start running because once I break out of these ropes I'll come for you first!"

The short ferret punched the otter in the cheek. Instead of crying out in pain, Tharko remained silent as he glared at his captors, his eyes burning with disgust. "Is that the best you can do? It's pathetic."

The short ferret let out a screech of rage and he and the other ferrets continued to beat the otter.

 _I think it's time to interfere._ Sebias was just about to give the signal, when suddenly there was a loud shout at the far end of the clearing.

"Hey!"

The ferrets paused their attack on Tharko –who was beginning to look quite bruised indeed– and stared at the newcomer.

The creature was a fox. He was of average height, dressed in a dark tunic and wore a shirt of black chainmail and a pair of metal plated gauntlets on both of his paws. His fur was jet black, and he was armed with a large broadsword that he carried as if it was as light as a feather.

 _I wonder whos side he's on,_ Sebias thought, Trying to scoot forward so that he could see everything, _he sure looks like a beast that you wouldn't want to get into a fight with on a dark night._

"Um… This is rather awkward, but I think you're beating up my friend there," the dark fox said. His voice was deep and smooth. The very sound of it made some of the ferrets flinch though they had no idea why they did. After all, it wasn't like the fox could take them all singlepawed.

"Kirk," The scarred otter exclaimed from where he lay, "I knew you'd come! Where's Bergen?"

Kirk grinned, swinging his broadsword slowly. "He's fine. I told him to stand by and watch. I want to take care of this rabble by myself."

A large ferret armed with a long cutlass walked up to Kirk until both of them were only a few feet apart. Puffing out his chest, the large ferret roared out in a thunderous voice, "I'm da boss of dis gang! My name is Deadstrike th' Mighty! Surrender or y'll die!"

The black fox's face broke into a smile as he laughed. Walking past Deadstrike, he swatted the ferret's cutlass aside with his paw. "You aren't even worth my time," he chuckled, "Go boil your head or something else that would benefit everybeast."

Sebias gasped as Deadstrike growled savagely and swung his cutlass at the fox's unprotected back.

Kirk seemed to have expected that, because he turned around and blocked the blow with a contemptuous smirk. "Try again and I'll be forced to kill you."

Deadstrike paused. He was used to fighting beasts less skilled with weapons, and this fox definitely didn't fall into that category. As the rest of the ferrets started to murmur to each other, Deathstrike bared his teeth and started to bark out orders. "Come on, gang! Let's get 'im! There's only one o' 'im 'n' there are almost thirty o' us!"

The vermin gang drew their weapons and attacked the fox at once.

Deathstrike was the first one to die. Swinging his sword horizontally, Kirk sliced the large ferret's head off with one blow. Sebias had seen quite a few skilled swordbeasts before, but none like the dark fox. In a flash of thrusts and parries, two more ferrets lay dead at his feet.

 _We should probably help right about now._ Sebias doubted that his friends would hear his whistle over the clamor, so instead, he charged out from behind the rocks that he was hiding at and waved his javelin about his head. "Redwaaaaaall!"

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gerardo running out from his hiding spot in a berry bush. The mouse was doing his best to look fearless.

"Arrrggghh! For Redwall!"

One of the ferrets who was armed with a bow, quickly loaded his weapon and shot a shaft straight at Sebias.

The young otter tripped on a rock just in time for the arrow to fly harmlessly over his head. Jumping back up, he slammed into the ferret archer as he fumbled to notch another arrow.

They both crashed together on the ground and the ferret swung out a claw, catching Sebias on the ear.

Sebias rolled over and grabbed one of the archer's fallen arrows, he grabbed it just as the ferret jumped, trying to crush the young otter before he could get to his footpaws. Pointing the sharp end up, Sebias closed his eyes, waiting for the impact.

The arrow plunged into the vermin stomach as it landed on Sebias. His eyes rolled back until only the white part was showing, and rolled over, clutching the arrow until he finally went limp.

The sound of battle seemed to fade away as Sebias stared down at the ferret that he had killed. He had never killed a beast before in his life! Suddenly, the otter felt sick.

While Sebias and Gerardo had been charging into the fray, Sam had let loose as many arrows as he could at the vermin throng. He hit one in the arm, but stopped shooting in case he accidently shot one of his own friends instead.

Gerardo had seen Sebias wrestling with the ferret and tried to push his way through the small crowd of jostling beasts. He had almost made it past them without getting noticed, when he was cracked on the top of his head with a club.

The mouse fell with a cry of pain and slowly felt his head with his paw. He barely even had time to register the fact that he was bleeding when he saw a large vermin standing above him, preparing to finish him with one more blow from his massive club.

"Bye bye, mouse," the vermin cackled, "tell them that I was th' one dat sent y' t' 'ellgates– Glugh!"

The big ferret was pushed roughly to the side as the dark fox shoved him away from Gerardo. As the other vermin staggered to his footpaws, Kirk brought his armored fist right into the ferret's temple, knocking him out cold.

"Th-thanks," Gerardo stammered, looking at the fox's bloody blade.

"Don't mention it. Give me a moment." Dodging a blow from an axe, the fox leapt forward and smashed both of his clenched paws into his enemie's face. Wrapping his arms around his neck, he jerked sharply, breaking the ferret's neck.

The dark fox dropped the dead creature and held out a paw. "My name's Kirk, what's yours?"

"Um… Gerardo."

"Nice name," Kirk smiled. Almost casually, he added, "Watch out."

Swinging his broadsword like lightning over the mouse's head, Kirk slashed the paw off of a skinny female ferret. She only had time for one agonized scream before her life was ended with a sword thrust.

The clearing suddenly fell silent. All of the ferret gang in the clearing were dead, killed by the dark fox. Those that hadn't been killed had already run off into the forest as fast as their legs could carry them.

Kirk walked over to where the scarred otter was tied up. Cutting his bonds, he helped his bruised companion to his paws.

Sam walked out from behind the tree where he had been sniping at the vermin with his bow. After seeing that Gerardo was alright, he ran over to where Sebias lay.

"Are you okay, Sebbie?" The squirrel asked, inspecting his friend to make sure that he was fine.

"I'm alright," Sebias replied, sitting up, "I just feel… sick."

Sam looked over and saw the dead vermin by Sebias. "Oh. I think I know what you mean."

Gerardo walked up just in time to hear the last part of their conversation. As he helped Sebias to his feet –a sight that rather looked comical since the otter was much taller than him– the mouse said comfortingly, "I'm no warrior, but even I can tell that it was going to be either him or you."

"Yeah, but…" Sebias paused as he tried to find the right words. Sighing, he finished," …it's hard to explain."

"Don't worry," a voice behind them said, "Everybeast feels that way after they've killed their first creature."

The three friends turned to see the scarred otter and black fox standing side by side. Kirk was wiping the blood of his broadsword and Tharko was leaning on a massive double-bladed axe that Sebias assumed he had taken from his captors. "Thank you for helping us," Tharko continued, "It must've been hard for young beasts who have never been in a battle before, to charge right in and risk their lives for somebeast that you didn't even know."

"Hey! Who said that we hadn't been in a battle before? Are you saying that we look inexperienced?" Sam asked.

"Um…well…"

Before Tharko could finish, his friend beside him let out a short bark of laughter. "I'm afraid that my friend here isn't the greatest when it comes t' diplomacy."

Sebias smiled. He rather liked these two already. Walking up to the fox and scarred otter, he held out a friendly paw. "I think it was time we were all properly introduced. My name's Sebias. What're yer names?"

The scarred otter shook his paw then saluted with his large double-bladed axe. "My name is Tharko, son of Tharno, son of Tarno, Proud Warrior, and Wanderer of the Lands."

The black fox also saluted with his broadsword. "And I am Kirk the Black, the Shadow of the night, and Slayer of Evil."

Sam, Gerardo and Sebias all shared glances. They weren't used to such grand and flowery introductions.

"And I'm Sam the Mighty." Sam declared. Doing –what he hoped was– a polite bow.

"Gerardo the…Inventor, at your service."

"A pleasure to meet you all I'm sure." Kirk suddenly turned around and surprised the Redwall trio by giving a loud shout. "BERGEN! Get over here!" As he waited, the black fox mumbled under his breath, "Honestly, must he always stay skulking behind a tree? The battle's over for fate's sake."

After a brief pause, a small rat's head poked out from inside a bush not far from where the group was standing. Bergen hopped out, brushing off the twigs and branches that clung to his fur. "No need to introduce yerselves," the rat said in a shaky voice, "I heard yew all perfectly."

Bergen was small, even for a rat. Sebias guessed that he was roughly their age but it was hard to tell because of his size. He wore a tattered vest and a pair of muddy trousers. Swinging a small brown bag over his shoulder he scurried over and stood behind Kirk.

 _Hmm… If Mother Mira was here, she'd probably say that it was time for Bergen to be properly introduced to a bar a soap and a tub of hot water,_ Sebias thought to himself. The young otter wasn't too sure about the small rat. There was something shifty about his eyes that immediately made the otter think of a thief. Shrugging to himself, Sebias brushed the thought away. He knew that a lot of vermin were scoundrels and thieves, but that didn't make all of them bad, right?

"I've got t' admit," Sebias told Kirk, "I've never seen anybeast use a sword as well as yew. Why, you don't even 'ave a blinkin' scratch on y' and y' were th' one doing most of th' fighting! That's pretty impressive if y' ask me, mate."

Kirk smiled at the praise. "Oh, it wasn't that big of a deal really."

"Yeah," Tharko agreed, "Killing all those ferrets is nothing compared to what I've seen Kirk do! There was one time when we were attacked by a _huge_ adder and–"

"That's quite enough," Kirk interrupted before the scarred otter could continue, "I doubt that these poor creatures would want to get bored to death by hearing that old story. You always tell that one to every creature we meet."

"That's because it's such an impressive story!" Tharko objected.

"He does 'ave a point there, Kirk," Bergen agreed. The rat was still standing behind Kirk, but it appeared that he couldn't resist at least one small remark.

Kirk rolled his eyes. "Don't listen to them," he said to the Redwallers, "I happen to be good at swinging a sword and my companions try to make me sound like a living legend."

"But you aren't just good at fighting," Tharko protested, turning to back to others he said, "He's probably one of the best trackers that I've ever seen or heard about! Not only that, but he's _very_ good at keeping hidden. I guess that dark fur of his might have something to do with that."

Ignoring Tharko, Kirk asked, "Enough about us. So where are you three from?"

"Redwall Abbey," Gerardo replied.

Kirk, Tharko and Bergen all exchanged looks.

Sebias picked up his javelin from where it lay on the ground beside him. "Not to change the subject, but what should we do with them?" he asked, pointing to the dead bodies of the ferret band, "We can't just leave them like this."

Kirk shrugged. "I don't see why we wouldn't just leave them to rot. After all, these are the kind of scum that gave us vermin a bad name."

"But… but that would just be making us stoop down t' their level!" Sebias objected.

"I actually agree with him, Kirk," Tharko added, "I know that the culture that you were brought up in said that said to leave enemy warriors to rot unless they proved to be worthy foes, but that's normally not how woodlanders look at these things."

"Well, you never had a problem with just leaving 'em before," Kirk retorted.

The scarred otter sighed and shook his head. "That's because we were on the run. We didn't really have a choice. Now we do."

Kirk rolled his eyes. "Fine. Do whatever you want. I'm going to go see if they have anything of value that we could use."

"I'll come with you," Bergen replied. The rat immediately rat up to the dead creatures and started to gather their weapons and anything else of value along with Kirk.

"Um… Pardon me asking," Gerardo whispered quietly to Tharko once the two vermin were out of earshot, "but how did you ever meet Kirk and Bergen. I mean, I'm sure that they're not as bad as most vermin, but I'm kinda curious what the circumstances must have been to made you pair up with a fox and a rat in th' first place?"

"It's…a long story," Tharko replied, "but all I can say is that I trust Kirk with my life. Bergen on the other paw… Well… I honestly don't know. We haven't been with him long. He seems nice enough, though you should probably keep a tight hold on anything valuable. He's a pretty good thief – a skill that comes in handy when you need to survive on your wits."

Sam instantly took his haversack off from where he had it slung over his shoulder and dove into it to see if anything was missing, while Gerardo and Sebias instinctively glanced at anything that they had that might've been stolen.

"Ok, I should probably rephrase that," Tharko chuckled. "Bergen isn't _that_ big of a thief. He's only one whenever he needs to be (At least that's what he says…)"

"Well none of my food is missing," Sam said after he had searched around a bit, "so I'm happy."

"Haha! Sorry," Tharko laughed, "it's just that you sound so much like me whenever I get hungry."

"Yeah, food's a pretty high propriety on Sam's list," Sebias agreed, chuckling. After a brief pause, he stated, "Well… I'm afraid that we should probably start finding a place to bury these ferrets."

The rest of the group reluctantly agreed. After a long search, Gerardo found a shallow dip in the ground where they shoved the dead ferrets. It was almost nightfall when they had finished covering the bodies as best as they could. At first, Kirk and Bergen hadn't helped, but after they had gathered all the weapons and anything else of value, Kirk reluctantly began to help scooting dirt over the dead ferrets with a small flat-bladed hatchet that he had found among the dead.

Once they were finished, Sebias leaned back and groaned as he stretched his back. "Oof! Well at least that's over with."

"What are we going to do for a camp, Kirk?" Tharko asked, glancing around at the clearing.

Kirk shrugged. Turning to Sebias, he asked, "I hear Redwallers are known far and wide for their hospitality. Would you mind if us three stayed at your camp?"

"Funny story, we don't actually have a camp…" the young otter replied slowly. "Maybe we should just all camp here."

Kirk shrugged. "Alright then. Bergen, would you mind getting our packs from where we hid them?"

Once they had finished making a makeshift camp on the edge of the clearing, they put their supplies together to make a small – yet satisfying – dinner. After they had cleaned up, the young creatures all tried to lie down and catch some sleep.

"I'll take first watch," Kirk had declared. The black fox then stepped back and disappeared into the night. Tharko had explained that he would watch the camp from wherever he was hiding and surprise anybeast who tried to sneak up on them while they slept.

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Sebias woke up sweating in the middle of the night. He had been plagued by nightmare after nightmare of the ferret that he had killed. He turned onto his left side, hoping that if he tried to think of something else, that he wouldn't have another bad dream.

After a long time of waiting, he finally began to drift back to the comforting realm of sleep…

 _He was standing in a wide open field of grass when Sebias heard a slow majestic voice in the air._

" _Sebias."_

" _Yes, Martin?" the young otter replied, looking about for the shadowy figure of the Warrior Mouse. "Where are you?"_

" _I'm fading, young one. I might not be here to warn you of oncoming dangers for much longer. The darkness that is keeping me from guiding Redwall is growing stronger. But always remember, young one, to keep strong."_

" _B-but–"_

" _No buts, Sebias." Drawing his sword, the Warrior Mouse began to chant, "The one who bears the mark on his left paw is the one who can stop this darkness."_

 _Martin's voice once more began to fade. "Keep strong, Sebias. I shall always–"_

 _Suddenly, Martin the Warrior's voice was cut off completely and Sebias feared that it would be a long time before he or anybeast else would hear the Warrior Mouse again._

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 _Footnote: This is my biggest chapter yet, so far! A grand total of 4,791 words! (Including the author note)_

 _Happy reading to you all! ~Sebias of Redwall~_


	30. Chapter 29

**Author note:**

 **Firestar the Warrior: Yeah, Kirk is kinda like a tank when it comes to fighting. XD**

 **Waycaster: Oh the plot's thickening for sure. And yes, The Grey Warlord *should* be poking his head in sometime soon. Though, one of the things about him is supposed to be that the reader and characters aren't supposed to know *too* much about him. But still, I get your point. (I'll have to fix that, won't I? XD)**

 **The Grey Coincidence: Yeah, Sam is my tree-climbing little comical relief kinda guy!** **Hmm… You might have a point there, there just *might* by more than meet sthe eye with Bergen. (Not telling though, of course XD)**

 **Martin's fading is rather a "Dun dun duuuunn!" (Dramatic music) kinda thing. Thing will definitely get a lot harder for Redwall when they can't get advice from our favorite ghost mouse.**

 **Haha! I agree with you. Though that would be kinda funny if Sebias suddenly glanced down at his own paw and said, "Oh, what do you know! I have a birthmark that I didn't even notice!" XD**

 **Urthblaze, eh? Well, I guess we'll just have to see.**

 **JP fanfic: Thanks! However, I feel the need to give credit where credit's due; Brain Jacques came up with a lot of the accents and such for his characters. (Though, to pat myself on the back a little, I do come up with almost all of the over-a-hundred names and such, and try to make some of my own cultures and accents as well)**

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 **REDWALL ABBEY**

Dark clouds had brought a heavy rain to Redwall not long after Skipper had left with his otter crew to search for Sebias, Gerardo, and Sam. The wind howled loudly, making the Abbey's shutters shake from the force of the wind and downpour.

Brother Michael was in the Gatehouse finishing up some writing that he had been meaning to do, when he suddenly heard a quiet knock on the door.

"Who is it?" The squirrel Recorder asked, quill held midair.

"It's Friar Peter. Let me in before the tea gets cold!"

Michael opened the door and was almost bowled over as Friar Peter rushed in. The mouse cook wore a large coat with a hood that he had bundled over his face as he set down a tray with two cups of warm herb tea.

"How's everything going with recording, Brother Michael?" The Friar asked, taking off the flat slate of wood that he had used to protect the tea from the rain.

"Oh. Fine I guess. How's everything in the kitchens?"

"Hmph, not quite so fine," Friar Peter replied, passing Brother Michael a cup of warm tea. "I had just finished cooking a nice big pot of stew and some dunderhead must have accidently spilled a whole container of salt in it, because I've never, ever, tasted anything so disgusting in my life!" Taking a gulp from his cup, he continued a little more calmly. "I had also made a nice batch of oatcakes for the Abbot, but I guess Sebias and his friends must have grabbed them before they left." Friar Peter paused and wrung his paws together. "Oh! I hope those rascals didn't fight over them and ruin them all or something."

Brother Michael listened to the pounding rain outside and shuddered. "I don't know how much of Mossflower is covered by this storm, but I sure hope that those three are all right."

"It's not only rain that they have to worry about! Why, even Mossflower Woods has its fair share of thieves and slavers. – not as many as other regions, but still…"

"Well, I guess it's always comforting to think that Skipper might've already found them. After all, he's one of the best trackers this side of the River Moss–" The recorder was interrupted by the sound of another beast loudly banging on the Gatehouse door.

"I need t' speak with yew, Brother Michael," a voice called out urgently from the other side. "We've got company."

The squirrel set down his cup and darted over to the door. Opening it, he stood aside as a big otter-guard walked in.

"What is it?" Michael asked, handing the otterguard his cup of herb tea. "Take this, it's nice and hot."

"Much obliged, Matey." The otter took a quick sip of the soothing liquid gratefully. Shaking the water out of his fur, he continued, "Me an' a couple of th' other lads were on the North Wall and we can see an army of beasts making their way straight down the road!"

"How many?" Friar Peter asked as he threw his heavy coat back on and grabbed his empty tray.

"We can't tell fer sure, but Rudderback says that she thinks that there might be close t' four 'undred!"

Michael also grabbed a coat and put in on as fast as he could. "Vermin?"

The otter guard shrugged. "We're not sure. It could be an army of Dibbuns fer all we know. This blasted rain makes it 'ard t' see anything fer certain."

Once the Friar and Recorder had put on their rain jackets, Michael ordered the guard to return to the walltop and to keep a close eye on the approaching beasts while they ran and warned the Abbot.

Closing the door behind them, Michael and Friar Peter ran over as fast as they could toward the main part of the Abbey, the rain pounding down on them as brief lightning flashes lit their path.

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Abbot Daniel could hear the rain and thunder from where he was in Cavern Hole. The mouse was sitting by one of the long tables that the abbey-dwellers used to eat on. He tapped his paws as he waited for news about Skipper and his crew's return, though he realized that it would probably be a long while before the otters would return from their search. Sebias was like a son to Skipper, the Abbot didn't doubt for a second that the otter chieftain would keep searching until after nightfall if necessary.

 _I wonder if it's raining where Sebias, Gerardo, and Sam are. They seemed to have gotten pretty far in the time that they've been gone…_ Danial mused sadly to himself. _I hope that all three of them come home safely._

"How are you doing, Father?"

Daniel turned to see Mother Mira walking up slowly toward him, her striped face showing worry.

"I'm guessing," the badger-mother commented, "That you're thinking about our missing young ones?"

Abbot Daniel sighed. "Yes. I keep wishing that we could have read at least some of the letter that Sebias had left for us at the gate. It probably would've cleared up a lot of this mess. Pity it had to fall in the mud so we can't read it properly."

"Yes, that is most unfortunate," Mother Mira agreed, patting the mouse's shoulder with a giant paw. "But you should try to stop worrying for a little while. It's unhealthy to be so stressed out all of the time."

Daniel shook his head. " _I'm_ the Abbot, it's my job to be worried if somebeast under my jurisdiction is in trouble. If I wasn't, then what kind of leader would I be?"

"Well no amount of fretting on your part is going to help any," Mother Mira countered, "Why don't you go and see if Friar Peter will whip you up something to eat? I noticed that you didn't eat much this morning."

Abbot Daniel smiled and patted Mira on her arm. "What would I do without you?" he smiled. Standing up, he tried putting on his best cheerful face and clapped his paws together, declaring, "Well, I guess I might as well check on our good Friar Peter then, hmm?"

Mira nodded. "Good. I'll be with the Dibbuns if you need me, Father Abbot."

"Thank you, my child, I'll be sure to take you up on the offer if needed."

Walking smoothly across Cavern Hole, he reached the main door at the same time that a very wet Michael and Friar Peter barged in, almost knocking Daniel off of his footpaws.

"Father Abbot! Whoops! I'm so sorry, I didn't see you there," Michael gasped out. After making sure that Daniel was alright, he continued, "The guards said that they saw a group of four hundred beasts marching on the northern path!"

The abbey-dwellers who had heard what the recorder had said, instantly started to panic and some started to run about, looking to see if the young ones were safe or to find a weapon of some sort that they could use to defend themselves.

"Everyone, please calm down," the Abbot called out, waving his small arms in the air, "You'll only make things worse by panicking."

Seeing that nobeast could hear Father Daniel above all of the panicked shouts, Mother Mira jumped up on one of the tables and roared out on the top of her lungs, "SILENCE! NOBEAST MOVE OR MAKE A SOUND!"

Cavern Hole immediately fell into a shocked silence.

"Er… Thank you, Mira," the Abbot whispered thankfully as he climbed up onto the table. Spreading out his arms, he declared, "As I was saying; running about and screaming isn't going to help matters. Now, Brother Michael and Friar Peter, could either of you tell us what kind of beasts are abroad in such foul weather?"

"Um… No, Father Abbot," Michael admitted, shaking his head, "The guards said that they couldn't tell with all this rain."

Daniel let out an obvious sigh of relief that at least they weren't being attacked for certain (Even though there _was_ still the possibility). "Alright then. Thank you, Brother Michael. Now, everybeast else, please listen to me. I want all of the able-bodied creatures to find a weapon and to meet me on the northern wall top. We don't know if these beasts are friend or foe yet, so let's try our best to figure their intentions before we throw weapons at them, hmm?"

All of the mice and other woodland creatures nodded their heads slowly in agreement, except for the Dibbuns, who were trying their best to wiggle out of their nervous parents' grasps. Most of the parents had run over and grabbed them once they heard of the possibility of a vermin attack.

Ambassador Grank and Scarnose were whispering together once they heard the Abbot's announcement. The rest of the three-score hamsters stood in a group beside them, waiting.

Abbot Daniel hopped off of the table and, accompanied by Mother Mira and Michael, walked over to the hamsters.

"Ahem," the mouse cleared his throat, grabbing Grank and Scarnose's attention. "Do either of you know anything about this?"

"Um…" For a minute, Grank looked like he didn't know what to say, but then Scarnose cut in, "Well, honestly, we're not sure. Are you _certain_ that there are _four_ hundred beasts an' not three hundred?"

Brother Michael answered for the Abbot. "The guards said they weren't sure because of the weather, but that's what it looked like. Why? Were you expecting an army of friends? It seems like in the short time that you've been here that more and more hamsters keep arriving."

Grank and Scarnose once again shared a glance. Grank nodded then stepped forward. "You are actually correct, Brother Michael (or at least partially). I had sent a message to our King to let him know how the negotiations went. I knew that he was somewhere in Mossflower Woods with three hundred troops with him. He told us that if anything went wrong with th' negotiations then we were t' send him a message an' he'd come right away."

"Why didn't you tell us this before?" Mother Mira asked, her voice low and suspicious.

Grank shrugged. "Didn't really see a need to."

"Well, we'll come back to that later," Abbot Daniel interrupted, "First, we need to figure out if it really is King Ironspear or worse, an army of vermin."

Once all of the able-bodied Redwallers were gathered, the Abbot ordered all of them to throw on their coats and to follow him to the gate.

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The rain continued to pour down on the Abbey-dwellers as they waited on the wall top, watching as the army of mysterious creatures came closer and closer.

Nobeast could still identify what species they were, but one or two of the sharper-eyed beasts said that they could swear that they could see a variety in sizes in the large group.

"I think… I think there are shrews with them," one of the squirrels –long known for his keen eyes- declared after a long while of squinting through the rain.

"Shrews?" Abbot Daniel shook his headfur as rain leaked through his hood and started to drip into his eyes. "I wonder… Could it be the Guosim?" The Abbot was referring to the tribe of shrews, known as the Guerrilla Union Of Shrews In Mossflower. They were some of the staunchest allies of Redwall for as long as anybeast could remember. They usually visited the Abbey in the winter after they had had their fill of wandering and stayed until the snow thawed. If it was indeed the Guosim who were with these creatures, then the Abbot doubted that they had little to fear.

The marching beasts finally drew all up to the wall where all of the abbey-dwellers could finally see them and stopped.

More than six hundred hamsters, all armed with spears and carrying large square shields, stood in rigid ranks of ten, a few would randomly shake the rain of their fur but otherwise, they remained completely still. Not far from them, in a separate section, was a crowd of two hundred Guosim shrews, dressed in long hooded coats.

"Ah," Scarnose commented to Grank, "So it _is_ King Ironspear. I'm not sure who th' shrews are though."

Abbot Daniel glanced at them both for a second, trying to read their expressions. It was like trying to batter down a steel door using a broomstick, in other words, impossible.

Clearing his throat, the mouse called down to the hamsters, trying his best to be heard above all of the rain and thunder, "I'm the Father Abbot of Redwall Abbey! I'd like to talk to your king! Where is he?"

Daniel had to shout a few times over before the hamsters finally got the message. Parting ranks, they made way as a large shadowy creature walked slowly up to the front, followed by a stocky shrew, who Daniel knew to be the leader of the Guosim, a fierce shrew by the name of Log-a-log Darnjo.

"'Well, I declare! 'Ow've ye been, Abbot Daniel?" the shrew chieftain roared out joyfully, his voice gruff. "Could y' kindly let us in, please? We're kinda getting soaked out 'ere with all of this sky-juice pourin' down on us!"

After a whispered conference with Mother Mira and Brother Michael, Daniel decided that they would allow Log-a-log with all of his Guosim and the king of the hamsters to enter the Abbey until they figured out what to do with the three hundred hamsters outside their door.

Running down from the wall top, Daniel and the other abbey leaders, along with a gang of mice an otters, ran down to the large wooden gate.

"Let me go out, Father Abbot," Mother Mira said, lifting the large wooden bar the held the gates in place. "I'll let them know what your decision is."

"But I'm the Abbot!" Danile objected, "I should be the first to meet our guests, especially when our delay has left them standing in the rain to get soaked."

"It'd make more sense for me to go," the female badger reasoned, "I'm the largest and most imposing creature in Redwall by far. Nobeast in their right mind would want to mess with me."

"But I'm sure that Log-a-log and his shrews would make sure that there was no mischief on the hamster's part. It's not like I'm made out of glass you know."

"And what would happen to the Abbey if something happened to you? No, I'm sorry, but I'm certain that this is the right thing to do, for the sake of Redwall."

The mouse opened his mouth to argue further, but then he closed it when he finally saw the wisdom in Mira's words. "Alright," he replied, nodding. "You can go instead of me. Don't say anything that I wouldn't say."

Mira paused before she started to push open the gate and gave the Abbot a roguish smile. "But that's the point, Father Abbot," she replied, "I can be as impolite as I want since I'm not the official head of Redwall."

"Hmm…" The mouse raised an eyebrow.

Winking at the Abbot, Mother Mira opened the gate slowly and poked her head out into the rain. Glancing around, she saw that Log-a-log was standing not far from her, she barked out joyfully, "Log-a-log Darjo, how've you been, you old scallywag? It's been a while since I've seen you. Do you still smell like a rotting fish, or did you finally learn how to use soap?"

The stocky shrew ran up to Mother Mira and jumped on her, trying his best to wrap her in a hug. "Oh, I've been just fine, Mira, an' I'm still as stinky as a dead carcass. Goodness! Either I'm getting smaller or you must be getting bigger, you must 'ave been eatin' lots of Friar Peter's muffins while I was away. It's getting harder to even hug you properly."

Laughing, Mother Mira swung him around in the air with her massive paws effortlessly. Noticing that the other shrews and hamsters were watching them with amusement, she slowly plopped him down back on the ground and coughed awkwardly, "Ahem, back to business. The Abbot said that you and the other Guosim are allowed to come in. We've prepared a place for you in Cavern Hole."

Log-a-log looked up at Mira's striped face. "Er… Is King Ironspear and his hamsters allowed in as well?"

The badger glanced over at the large hooded creature that was standing not far from them. _He sure is a quiet creature,_ she mused to herself. Aloud, she pointed to the cloaked creature and asked, "Is hethe Grey Warlord of Southsward?"

"Yup," the stocky shrew nodded, "that's 'im. He 'elped me an' my shrews on the way over 'ere, so if he ain't allowed in, then me an' my shrews will 'ave t' stay out as well."

"How did he help you?"

"It's a rather long story," the shrew chieftain replied.

Mira glanced up at the sky. She was certainly no otter, so she didn't like rain or getting soaked by talking further. Hoping to wrap things up, she said, "Yes, the Abbot said he could come in, but only him, his hamsters will have to stay out until we get a few things sorted out."

"Thank you," a voice rumbled from behind Mother Mira.

The female badger turned around calmly and saw the hooded creature standing behind her. A lightning bolt flashed in the sky and for a second, Mira could see the Grey Warlord's face. He was a large wildcat. His long whiskers were drooping from the rain, his mouth seemed to have a small smile playing on the corners of his lips, and his green eyes seemed to gaze into her very soul.

"Don't thank me," she huffed, "Thank the Abbot Daniel. He was the one who said you could come in."

King Ironspear flashed the badger a polite smile, his white fangs gleaming. "Well I'm thankful all the same. I must admit that I was getting rather annoyed with this rain." Waving a paw toward his soldiers, he ordered them to wait in the woods where they'd be sheltered by the downpour. He walked through the gates, quickly followed by Mother Mira, Log-a-log, and the five-score Guosim shrews. All of them were quite eager to be in the downpour, even though the shrews were well known for their love of water.

Once the last of the Guosim stragglers pasted through the gate, Mother Mira and two big otter-guards quietly shut the door and bolted it shut.

"You all must be freezing!" Abbot Daniel said, pulling his coat tighter to block as much rain as possible, "Let's all run over to Cavern Hole so that we can all discuss things and catch up in warmth."

Leaving a few guards to guard the walls, the soaked creatures all ran back into the Abbey.

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"Hey! It's the shrews!" a vole cried out as the Guosim and the other Redwallers entered Cavern Hole.

Immediately, the air was filled with joyful shouts, and Redwallers and shrews embraced each other and started flooding the others with questions and greetings.

"Matey, 'ow's life in th' Abbey been since last we were 'ere?"

"Baltor, you al' stream-swimmer, it's good to see you again!"

"Friar Peter, did ye cook up a feast fer us, or are ye still washing the dishes that we made th' last time we were 'ere. Har har!"

"Hey! How's the family, Bridget?"

"Oh, you know us shrews, we're all 'appy as long as there is food on th' table!"

The abbey leaders drew off to one side while the others were still greeting their old friends.

Abbot Daniel slowly walked up to the Grey Warlord and nodded. "My name is Abbot Daniel. I'd like to welcome you to Redwall Abbey."

"Thank you for your hospitality." The wildcat smiled and swung his off his massive cloak and folded it. The Grey Warlord was large for a wildcat, on par with a badger in terms of size and build. He looked roughly thirty seasons old. His fur was a dark grey and he wore a set of finely crafted armor. On his left paw he wore a gold ring with a red jewel set in its center. He carried no weapon in his paw or in his green snakeskin belt. His watching green eyes flickered across Cavern Hole, taking everything in.

"Your Abbey is most impressive," the grey-furred wildcat commented politely, giving a respectful bow, "Allow me to introduce myself –though I'm certain that you already know my name– I'm King Ironspear of Moleguard, the Grey Warlord of Southsward."

"Hold on a second." Before either of them could continue, Brother Michael hurriedly whipped out a sheet of paper and a quill and sat down by a nearby table, his quill held in his paw at ready.

"What are ye doing there, Michael?" Log-a-log asked the squirrel, scratching his spikey-furred head.

"I'm recording all of these recent developments as they happen, so that I don't leave out the slightest detail," the squirrel replied. He nodded to King Ironspear and Abbot Daniel. "Carry on."

Sharing an amused glance, the Abbot and the other creatures sat down alongside the Recorder.

Just as the Abbot opened his mouth to ask King Ironspear a question, he was once again interrupted as Scarnose and Grank both ran up to the Grey Warlord and knelt respectfully.

"Your Majesty."

"M'lord."

Rising, Grank walked forward and kissed the jeweled ring that King Ironspear wore on his left paw.

"I hope your journey was safe an' pleasant, Your Majesty."

King Ironspear smiled. "It was actually. Right up until it started pouring rain on us. Oh. An' there was that small incident with the shrews… Would you like to tell them about that, Log-a-log Darjo?"

"Sure!" Scooting his chair forward, Log-a-log cleared his throat and began, "So we Guosim 'ad been sailing the River Moss in our logboats for most of th' summer, when some of th' lads started to complain that they were getting bored with wandering th' same rivers over 'n' over. So, we decided t' try out one of th' southern rivers. We 'ad been paddling for two day straight an' some of th' shrews were getting pretty tired so we took turns at sleeping while we drifted down the river."

Log-a-log shook his head. "That probably wasn't th' smartest decision since we 'ad never even been on the river before and we didn't know what we'd run into."

As the shrew chieftain paused his narration, it became so silent that the only sound to be heard was Brother Michael scribbling down words as fast as he could, and the sound of the Dibbuns playing with the other young Guosim shrews quietly in the background.

"Most of us 'ad been lulled to sleep," Log-a-log continued, "when we suddenly hit the rapids, they were some of the fastest and most ruthless currents I've ever seen in my entire life, doubly dangerous because we didn't know the strength or the speed of th' currents very well. After a very long 'n' hard time of paddling like madbeasts, most of us finally made it down the rapids in one piece." Log-a-log paused, "not all of us though. Two of my sons and about six other young shrews had been in their own logboat an' had gotten smacked against a tree that was barely stickin' out of th' water. The boat tipped all of th' way over with both my me sons trapped underneath it."

Glancing over at Ironspear, he smiled, "That was when we saw King Ironspear. We didn't see 'im until he 'ad leapt into the river alone, holding his giant spear. He had drifted over to the trapped logboat an' managed to pry them both free with 'is iron spear. I never have seen a cat that swam so well."

"Well… I'd like to say that I was as spectacular as Log-a-log is making me," Ironspear smiled, "but really, I actually didn't do that much beside pry the boat to where it got free on its own."

"Don't let 'im fool you," Log-a-log told the Redwallers. "He saved both of my sons' lives, an' I'll never forget it."

The group fell silent, looking at King Ironspear with a new sense of respect.

"Not to change the subject," Abbot Daniel adjusted his habit, "because, after all, that is quite an impressive tale, but we should probably figure out where all of your hamsters are going to stay. We can't very-well leave them in the rain, now can we."

"My soldiers have been taught to adapt in even the harshest types of weather," King Ironspear replied. "Though I'm sure they would all _quite_ appreciate it if they could sleep here when night falls. Though, if you don't want them to, then I completely understand. I assume that you wouldn't want an army of strangers in your walls all at once anyway."

"What? No! That's not the reason at all," Abbot Daniel replied, fidgeting with a candlestick that had been lying on the table before him. "It's just… Well… We don't have room in our Abbey for three hundred more beasts. We already have two to three hundred of our own living here, and your sixty hamsters that you sent with Ambassador Grank. Not to mention all of the Guosim staying in Cavern Hole. Well… I'm afraid we just don't have that much room."

"Completely understandable," the wildcat sighed.

"Well… I guess if we tried we could at least make enough room for a score or two of your troops," the abbot offered. The little, quiet, suspicious voice in the back of his head told him that it wouldn't be wise to let even that many in. "You'd all have to surrender your weapon before you came in though," he added. _No sense in taking chances._

King Ironspear nodded. Pushing back his chair, he stood up and bowed, "Thank you so much for letting at least a few of us to stay. If it's not too much trouble, would you mind sending somebeast to tell my troops the good news, and to tell them that I'll be down shortly to decide which ones will also be staying in the Abbey with me?"

"I'll go tell 'em," Scarnose offered. The hamster then ran off to give the others his King's message.

Pushing her chair back and standing up, Mother Mira glanced over at the Grey Warlord and asked, "Is there anything that you might need?"

"Yes," Friar Peter chipped in. He had been watching the meeting in silence along with most of the other Redwallers, and thought it was about time to make himself heard. "I could whip something up for all of you to eat if you're hungry. Well... Maybe not for _all_ of your army, but still…"

"I'd appreciate that very much. As long as it's all right with your Abbot," King Ironspear glanced over at Daniel, who nodded.

The wildcat added with a bit of humor, "And I'm sure any of my soldiers would be quite thankful for any vittles as well. Our cook isn't bad, but if you've ever eaten one of his hardtack biscuits and walked away with all of your teeth intact, then you would have my sincerest congratulations."

Abbot Daniel laughed. "Well I assure you, Friar Peter is one of the best chiefs that Redwall has ever had." the mouse broke off suddenly as he started coughing.

"Phew! I must be getting a cold from all of this rain," Daniel said, noticing the anxious looks on the other Redwallers' faces. "Nothing to worry about, I'm sure."

Ignoring the concerned glance that Mother Mira shot him, the mouse stood up. "Friar Peter, if you need any help with baking lunch for our guests then just let me know. Brother Michael, could you find some spare rooms in the dormitories for a score of King Ironspear's hamsters. Log-a-log," the abbot glanced over at the shrew chieftain, "would you mind if you and your tribe stayed in Cavern Hole again like you did last winter?"

"Sure thing, Father Abbot."

"Well, very good then." Abbot Daniel folded his paws into his habit sleeves. "I guess I'll see you all at lunch.


	31. Chapter 30

**Author note:**

 **Happy 4** **th** **of July, everyone! I thought I'd let you all know that I have a new poll on my profile page for TGW. (Also, this author note is rather long so don't feel bad if you'd like to skip it and to get right into the story** **)**

 **The Grey Coincidence: Bergen being a spy, eh? Interesting theory there. (Chances are, your second theory is *probably* correct, just a small thief who needs protection. XD**

 **Some more very shrew(d) guesses about The Grey Warlord… You are probably correct about the fact that he could kill everybeast at the Abbey currently. (Though it would be rather awkward if Skipper and his otters came back to see a wildcat killing their friends. XD) Something else at play, eh? I guess you might have to wait to see for sure. XD**

 **I feel like keeping him mysterious wasn't *too* hard. (Just not giving him very many scenes rather took care of that. XD)**

 **Waycaster: Yes. Hopefully we shall get to see more of The Grey Warlord. He's already been pulling some strings in the back ground, but it's probably about time to throw at least a little light on him. (Not much though, I still need to keep him somewhat grey… XD)**

 **JP fanfic: Thanks! I'm glad you liked Urthblaze. You should hopefully get to see more of him in a few chapters. (So basically, by the time you read this. XD)**

 **Shellypoo: Thanks! I hope you like it!**

 **Abrahem: Woah! Thanks for catching up! I'll try to reply to each review… Here goes…**

 **Lagworth the Bully I think lost quite a few popularity points after that chapter. XD The fox murderer probably did too. I'm glad that you liked the names!**

 **I'm glad you liked Keva! (The fact that she's daughter of the chief will probably make sure we'll see more of her in the future) (The way you described her was pretty accurate actually. XD) Snowptetal and Lancejack were just introduced.**

 **Yeah, Slisk is a rather treacherous little corsair. XD**

 **I was always looking forward to bringing in the trio for a while, I'm glad you like 'em!**

 **Keva is actually roughly based off of someone that I know… But I guess the story character probably looks similar to Grath. (The main otter in Pearls of Lutra)**

 **Happy 4** **th** **of July to you too, mate!**

 **Firestar the Warrior: I tried to squish in a bit more of Mother Mira so I'm glad you liked it.** **Yup, lots of "brownie points" for The Grey Warlord. XD**

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 **BERTVAR'S UNDERGROUND CAMP: NORTHLANDS**

As Dunagan, Tragg, and Flugg all ran down yet another long and dark tunnel, the sound of their ragged breathing and stamping feet echoed loudly throughout the underground corridors.

"Do ye think that we gave those vermin th' slip?" Flugg asked. His face was as red as a tomato. "I 'aven't heard that howling in a while."

"Me neither, but let's not get too excited," Dunagan replied, the hedgehog looked equally exhausted. "I've been one of Bertvar's slaves for a while now and from all that I've seen, I don't think we should underestimate him."

"I'm not 'underestimating _'im_ '," Flugg retorted, "I'm underestimating his nose's tracking skills."

The three escaping creatures had been running for what felt like an eternity. They had only stopped for a short break while Dunagan relit their small torch. Stumbling along, they charged dead ahead, with no idea what-so-ever if the tunnel that they were running through would lead them to freedom. But they pressed on anyway.

"Oof!" Dunagan suddenly tripped and fell forward with a grunt of pain. He hadn't seen a sharp jagged piece of rock that had been jutting out from the tunnel floor until he had hit it at full speed, giving his knee a deep cut.

"Dunagan, are ye okay?" Tragg asked anxiously, leaning forward with his torch to inspect the hedgehog's knee. "Do ye think ye kin stand up alright?"

Dunagan grimaced as he rubbed his injured knee and grunted as a bolt of pain shot through his leg. Looking at his paw, he saw the red stain of fresh blood on it. "Don't worry about me," he groaned, "Keep going! I'll try and find a different way out of here."

Tragg shook his head as he and Flugg both lifted the hedgehog up. "Nope. Sorry, but ye're not going tae 'ave an honorable last stand yet, Dunagan. Either we all escape or none o' us!"

With the two shrews holding him up by the shoulders, the hedgehog dragged himself forward. "But you'll never escape if you have to drag me with you the whole bloody way! Just leave me. You two are young and fast. I'll buy you both a little time so that you can escape."

"No kin do, mae friend," Flugg replied, "Like Tragg said, we're all gonna escape together!"

They continued running until the tunnel split in three different directions. Plopping down, the three tried to catch their breath. None of them could go forward another step without gasping in as much fresh air into their pounding lungs as possible.

Tragg rubbed his paw across his sweating face. "Which way should we go now?"

"Er… I'd don't know." Flugg shrugged. "I'm nae much good at tunnels… Maybe the left one?"

Dunagan crawled forward and sniffed the air coming out of each of the tunnels. "I think Flugg is right actually. The air seems to be slightly fresher in the left tunnel. Not only that, it also appears to be slanted up while the other two look like they lead further underground."

"Left it is then."

Tragg helped Dunagan to his paws again and they ran into the left tunnel. _We have to escape!_ Tragg growled to himself. _All of this couldn't have been for nothing! I promised Dunagan that we'd escape! And how would Rosebud and Rones take it if Flugg and I didn't come back? I couldn't bear for that to happen. We only have each other._ Glancing over at Dunagan and Flugg, he thought grimly, _If Bertvar thinks that he'll get us without a fight then he has another thing coming to him._

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After a good deal of running down passages, climbing up small ledges, and jumping over deep ruts, Tragg, Flugg, and Dunagan found themselves back at the place where the tunnel split into three.

Looking at the three tunnel entrances, Flugg panted, "This is beginning tae look very bloody familiar."

"Ach!" Tragg leaned over as he tried to catch his breath while holding up Dunagan. "That's 'cause we must 'ave been going 'round in circles this whole time!"

All three of them suddenly stopped. Was that the sound of feet marching or was it just their imaginations?

The low voice of Grunner echoed down the tunnel, destroying any hope that the escaping beasts had.

"Look! I see blood! One of 'em must've gotten 'urt! Come on, lads! Follow me!"

Tragg shot the others a worried glance. "They're comin'! What do we do?"

Flugg once again helped Tragg as they urgently helped Dunagan stand up. "I guess we'll just 'ave tae pick a different tunnel this time. Let's try th' one in th' middle. We'd better move quickly though! It doesnae sound like they're far behind!"

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As Bertvar lead his group of vermin slavers down the dark corridors, he mentally went through a list in his mind of the things that he should do to the escaping prisoners when they caught up to them. Using the wolf's keen sense of smell, the slavers had followed Tragg and the others' trail at a slow run. Once Grunner had found traces of blood, Bertvar realized that the slaves wouldn't be able to run very far or very fast. So, he decided to keep the pace somewhat slow so that they wouldn't miss any clues of where they went in the darkness.

"We must be getting close," Grunner snarled brandishing his weapon, "Even I can smell 'em." The weasel was still smarting about the fact that three measly slaves had made a fool out of him. Maybe if he could still impress Bertvar by catching them, then hopefully, his master would forget about the unfortunate incident altogether. Though if they didn't catch the slaves, and Bertvar decided to take his anger out on Grunner instead… The weasel gulped nervously at the thought.

When the group came to the place where the tunnel split into three, Bertvar paused and inspected the ground.

"Hmm… It appears that our quarry has tried to confuse us," the wolf said, pointing a massive paw and the tunnel openings. "I see and smell a blood trail going down the center and the left tunnel." He leaned down and inspected the center tunnel's floor a bit more. "I'm almost certain that the one in the center is fresher, so that's the one we'll take." Nodding at two rats, he snapped out, "You two go down the left one just in case. If you see them then come back and report, the rest of you follow me, and remain silent if you value your hides."

Getting back up, the vermin scrabbled to their feet and charged off after their leader wordlessly.

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"I think I see 'em!"

It hadn't taken long for the vermin slavers to catch up with the staggering shrews and hedgehog.

Looking over his shoulder, Tragg saw the slavers' flickering torches at the far end of the tunnel and cried out, "They're gonna get us again!"

"Oh no they aren't, Tragg! Not if I have anythin' tae say about it," Flugg growled, grabbing the small torch back from his cousin as they ran and then stopped, getting into a fighting stance. "Keep going wit' Dunagan," He told Tragg. Baring his short teeth, he added, "Those numpties couldnae kill me if they tried."

"That's 'cause I ain't leavin' ye," Tragg declared. "I'd rather go down fightin' beside ye!"

"I'm stayin' too!" Dunagan said from where he had collapsed down on the ground. He looked up and smiled, shaking his head, "Though, considering I can't run with my leg like this, I don't think I really had a choice in the first place." The hedgehog had lost quite a bit of blood already but he staggered up and stood beside Tragg and Flugg as they watched the flickering lights of the vermin coming down the long tunnel.

Giving triumphant shouts and yells, the vermin pack drew closer, drawing their weapons as they bared their teeth at the troublesome slaves.

Striding through the vermin ranks, Bertvar the Slavemaster walked over slowly and looked down at the two shrews and the hedgehog that looked tiny in comparison to him.

"Will you surrender, or must I take drastic measures?" the wolf asked in a dangerously calm voice. "You have proved to be quite troublesome already and we wouldn't want to add anything to that list, now would we?"

Flugg's jaw had dropped with shock when he saw Bertvar for the first time. So _this_ was the slave leader that Tragg and Dunagan had been talking about! His limbs started to shake at the thought of fighting such a monstrosity. "Ye'd better let let us go," he warned, clenching the torch with both of his paws, "Or Lord Nightwrath an' 'is moles will pound ye all intae the dust!"

"Who's Lord what's-his-name?" Tragg whispered quietly.

Flugg shook his head and instead gazed up at Bertvar to see his reaction.

The large wolf chuckled with amusement. Turning to his soldiers, he grinned, "Did you hear that? Lord Nightwrath will come stop us if we don't let these poor creatures go, how intriguing." Glancing down at his claws, he smiled, "I'm afraid that that badger and his moles won't be able to save you. He lost popularity with all of you woodlanders when he fought that squirrel clan seasons ago. He wouldn't dare stick a claw outside his mountain until after he gained their trust back. Besides, I don't think he could get here in time. …Now, will you surrender quietly?"

Even though he had already guessed their answer, he watched silently as all three of them began to slowly back away, clenching their fists with a look of defiance in their eyes.

Bertvar shrugged. "So be it." Stepping off to the side, he looked over at his slavers. "I don't wish to dirty my paws on such a group of pathetic beasts. They are unarmed so you shouldn't have any trouble. Take them alive if possible"

The wolf sighed as all of his vermin blankly stared back at him.

Grunner the weasel decided it was time to step up and impress his master. "Well what're we waitin' fer, mates? Let's get 'em! Attaaaaack!"

As the group of slavers surged forward, Tragg quickly reached down and grabbed a heavy rock. _Are we going to die?_ The young shrew didn't have enough time for another thought as the vermin crashed into them.

Most of the vermin had dropped or tucked away most of their deadlier weapons. Apparently, Bertvar wanted the slaves alive and who were they to question him. Despite the fact that they were severely outnumbered, the two shrews and hedgehog were giving a good account for themselves.

Using the rock that he had picked up, Tragg chucked it at an incoming fox. It hit the vulpine square in the face and it leapt back with a yelp of pain, holding his face with both paws.

As Tragg reached down to pick up another rock, he felt somebeast slam something hard into his back and he fell forward. He was immediately pushed to the ground as vermin rushed forward and jumped on him, kicking and punching without mercy.

Tragg clawed at a rat's eyes as he gasped out for air. If he was going to be taken, then he'd go down in a way that would have made his father proud.

"Here I come, cousin! Hold on!"

Two of the vermin on top of Tragg were suddenly bowled over as Flugg threw himself into the pile of beasts. The young shrew was covered with bite marks and scratches but he still fought on like a madbeast. "Nobeast touches Tragg! Ye 'ear me! Nobeast!"

He leapt at a skinny weasel, but the vermin grasped on to him with a surprisingly iron-like grip and signaled to a fat fox behind Flugg and yelled, "Get 'im, Furgly!"

Furgly darted forward and swung a punch at the back of Flugg's unprotected head, knocking the shrew out cold.

Tragg had just managed to push a large brown rat off when he saw Flugg go down. The shrew went beserk. "I'll kill ye fer that, vermin! Jus' let me get a paw 'round yer neck an' ye'll be sorry!"

Out of the corner of his tear-stained eye, he could see that Dunagan had already been taken down. He must've fought well because the vermin had tied him with ropes and were still hitting him roughly with their spears.

It took a while, but finally, the vermin had also beaten Tragg down onto his knees. Dragging the three re-captured prisoners forward, they presented them to Bertvar who had been standing by as he watched the fight with his piercing gaze.

"'Ere they are, Chief," Furgly the fox grinned, pointing at Tragg with his spear, "We got 'em fer you just like you ordered."

"Yes. I can see that," Bertvar commented. "I must admit that it took far longer than I expected for all twenty of you to take those three down."

"Er…"

Pushing Furgly aside, Grunner the weasel walked forward and saluted. "One of the slaves" –he pointed at claw at Dunagan– "stabbed Rufflefur in her paw with a knife. What should we do with 'im?"

Bertvar scratched his chin idly. "Hmm… Tie them up and prepare to go back to camp. I think it's about time that I showed the other slaves what happens when somebeast tries to go against my will."

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Tragg and the others had been hauled back ungracefully to the slavers' camp. Tragg could see small black piles of ashes where he and Dunagan had set fire to the guards' tent.

As they passed a long row of chained slaves, Tragg noticed a lot of the other woodland slaves were giving him, Flugg, and Dunagan pitying glances. The young shrew gulped. _I wonder if they feel sorry for us because we didn't escape, or because they know something bad is going to happen to us."_

Once they had gotten to the center of the underground camp, Bertvar ordered the three escapers to be tied to a tall wooden post while he declared what their punishment would be.

"You all already know that some of my slaves have tried to escape today." Since Bertvar was much bigger than any of the other beasts, he could be seen and heard by slave and vermin alike without having to raise his voice. "I don't know if any of you had helped them start the fire, but rest assured that I'll find out for certain. Until I do, I want all of the guard watches to be doubled, and the slaves' rations to be cut in half."

Looking over at the still unconscious Flugg, he waved a paw for two rats to chain him up with the other slaves.

Pointing a massive grey-furred paw at Dunagan and Tragg, he said, "You two are to be punished for trying to escape; resisting my soldiers; and starting a fire in the middle of my camp."

"Don't hurt the lad, sir, please," Dunagan pleaded. His mouth was swollen from bruises and his face had long bloody scratches on it. "I was the one who suggested that we should start the fire. Don't punish him for my actions."

Bertvar shook his head. "I'm sorry, but nobeast –and I hope I'm perfectly clear when I say nobeast– will ever get away with assaulting my guards and attempting to burn my camp to the ground."

Calling a few weasels over, the wolf pointed at Dunagan. "Take this fool to Longdeath the Torturer. Tell him to cut off this hedgehog's left ear for his crimes. Maybe if he loses an ear then he'll be anxious to keep the other by listening to orders better."

Indicating for his slavers to bring Tragg forward, Bertvar stooped down and, taking a clean cloth from his jacket, wiped some of the blood and dirt off of the young shrew's face. "Hmm… What to do with you," the wolf murmured. After a brief pause, Bertvar straightened up and told Tragg, "I decided that I won't send you to Longdeath, young one."

Just as Tragg let out an inward sigh of relief, the wolf continued, "However, like I said, I can't let you get away without some sort of punishment. Therefore…" Quick as lightning, Bertvar swung out his large paw and with I mighty swing, sent Tragg flying back as his claws ripped into the left side of the young shrew's face.

Falling down to the ground, screeching out in pain until the clearing echoed with his screaming. Tragg fell forward, clutching his left eye with both paws. The last thing he saw before blacking out from the sheer pain was a pair of vermin boots marching toward him.

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 _Footnote: Ooh! Pretty intense, huh?_ _I hoped you liked the chapter! Please let me know what you thought about it, and for anyone that's interested, you could vote in the Poll I made on my profile page! Thank you!_

 _Once again, just got to say thank you to all of my lovely readers, you guys are the best!_

 _Happy reading to you all!_

 _~Sebias of Redwall~_


	32. Chapter 31

**Author's note:**

 **The Grey Coincidence: I know, sometimes I feel a little bad for making Tragg's life so miserable... (Don't tell him that it's me pulling the strings though. He might crawl out of the pages and strangle me.)XD Very shrew(d) points about the shrews. Yes, I gotta admit that that was one of the reasons I split up the band. (Rosebud, Rones, and Elmblade need a little character time) And it *does* move the plot in certain ways…**

 **Firestar the Warrior: Unpredictable is my middle name! ;-D And you're right. They** _ **might**_ **still escape. Who knows for certain though?… Happy reading to you!**

 **Waycaster: Yes, poor Tragg is going to have one heck of a scar, and probably Dunagan as well.**

 **Abrahem: Yeah, Bertvar isn't a fun guy to be sure. XD As for your question: I'm actually not of English origin. But I do kinda like their accent and I sometimes use the terms 'Chap' and 'Mate' in real life.**

 **Now, my dear readers, let us see what the Northlands have been up to.**

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 **IRONDEEP: NORTHLANDS**

 _Flugg, where in tarnation are ye, ye numpty?_

Rosebud hadn't begun to worry too much about Flugg until the shrew had been gone for a few hours. After restlessly pacing her room and fidgeting with her bow, she finally heard the sound of feet walking down the hall outside her room.

Thinking for a minute that it was Flugg, Rosebud flung open the door and began to lecture. "What took you so long? Why didn't– Oh. Hello, Rones."

Rones and Elmblade shared confused looks.

"Sorry to interrupt," their mole guide –one of the more finely spoken of the mole warriors– said quietly, pointing to two doors opposite of Rosebud's room, "but those are both of your rooms. Let me know if there is anything I can do for you."

"Well thankee, me good mole," Rones replied, ushering the mole back down the passage, "We never would've found 'em wit'out ye! Now I'd like tae talk wit' mae niece in private fer a minute, would ye excuse us please?"

"Yes sir." Giving a polite bow, the mole turned and walked back down the hallway.

Once he was sure that he couldn't hear them, Rones turned to Rosebud and asked, "What was that 'bout Flugg? Isn't he here?"

The female shrew shook her head worriedly. "No. He said that he had lost his rapier 'n' that he was going to backtrack down the tunnels until he found it."

"Ach! That fur-brain!" Rones shook his head. Reaching into his pack that he had slung over his shoulder, he pulled out the missing weapon. "I had seen 'im accidently drop this back at the camp, so I hid it tae teach 'im a lesson. I didn't think he'd go runnin' through a bunch o' tunnels tae find it."

"Well that's what he did." Rosebud said, "He's been gone for a while now… Do ye think we could ask Lord Nightwrath 'n' his moles tae look for 'im?"

"Maybe we shouldn't," Elmblade commented. The squirrel had been silent as he listened to Rosebud and Rones. "Do ye think that we could go look for Flugg by ourselves?" The squirrel reached for one of the torches that lit the hallway.

"Now hold on there, laddie," Rones said, grabbing Elmblade's arm, "That's exactly what Flugg thought. He thought that he could find his way 'round down 'ere 'n' he still hasn't gotten back. No, I'm afraid we'll jus' have tae ask our host tae help us."

Elmblade sighed, shaking his head "Fine. But I wish we dinnae have tae."

"I understand, Elmblade, but please dinnae let your Clan's rivalry with Lord Nightwrath cloud your judgement. After all, he was pretty polite when we told him tha' ye were one of the MacBurls."

"Ye told him?" Rosebud gasped.

Rones and Elmblade both nodded.

"Aye, we had tae," Elmblade said, "Lord Nightwrath seemed like he had already guessed who I was 'n' Rones thought it would look better if we jus' admitted it instead o' pretending otherwise."

"We'll explain more later," Rones said. "First we need tae find Flugg. Let's go see where Lord Nightwrath is."

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 **BERTVAR'S UNDERGROUND CAMP: NORTHLANDS**

Bertvar was looking at a map in his tent when Grunner the weasel and Furgly the fox entered.

It was well known fact among the slavers that Grunner and Furgly were both eager to get promoted to second-in-command, thus they tried their best to make sure that the other would look bad in Bertvar's eyes, while trying to impress him at the same time. Since the slaves had been recaptured, neither had let the other out of their sight.

"Th' boats arrived," Furgly reported, throwing Bertvar a stiff salute, "Th' river rats said that they want at least 'alf of their payment afore they load up any slaves."

"Th' untrusting savages," Grunner growled, "I say we should just pick 'em all up 'n' throw 'em off their ships 'n' take 'em fer ourselves."

" _Because_ ," Bertvar replied, "those river rats know the best rivers and streams that lead to the west coast, and furthermore, I'll need their connections to get a ship to take us to Terramort. Does that make sense to you now?"

Grunner and Furgly both looked at each other and shrugged.

Bertvar sighed. Sometimes his underlings could be so pathetically stupid. "Why don't you both go start loading up the slaves or something else halfway useful?"

Furgly saluted. "Yes sir."

"Aye," Grunner saluted, "I'll make sure that Furgly gets some work done for a change." The weasel didn't have to look at Furgly to see that the fat fox was annoyed by his comment.

After bowing respectfully to Bertvar, the two vermin left.

Standing up, his head almost brushing the top of the massive tent, Bertvar began to pace back and forth, contemplating. His henchmen _did_ have a point… The river rats that the slavers had used to ferry slaves had gotten more and more greedy. It hadn't been bad a first, but then the old leader of the river tribe had _"accidently"_ drowned. The new chieftain, a bloated rat named Bugfoot, was a greedy rat and recently was trying to make the wolf slaver pay more than was originally supposed to. Bertvar would never admit it, but, like Grunner and Furgly, he wanted to just throw them off their barges and seize them for his own.

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Once they were out of the tent and far enough away so that Bertvar couldn't hear them, Grunner suddenly grabbed Furgly by the shoulder and spun the fat fox around. "Now listen, we both know tha' only one o' us can be Bertvar's top capt'n, an' we both know that I'm th' one who's got the smarts outa th' two o' us, so back off!"

Furgly swatted the weasel's paw off of him and grabbed him by the throat. "Don't grab me, clot-head, or bad things will 'appen." He suddenly stiffened as he felt the cold blade of a dagger pressed against his large gut.

"Oh bad things are gonna 'appen, Furgly, but it'll be t' you, not me. Let go."

Releasing the weasel, the fat fox stepped back. "Fine, but don't go 'round making threats t' beasts who could kill yew in th' blink of an eye. Bertvar knows that I've better than two of yew, 'n' if y' even think 'bout gettin' anywhere in my way I'll run that dagger up yer nose."

"We shall see, mate," Grunner said, tucking the dagger back into his belt, "We shall see."

Furgly rolled his eyes. "Let's just do what Bertvar told us'n' get th' slaves ready to go."

"Fine."

Thus, with the uneasy truce struck, the two beasts turned and left, throwing suspicious glances over their shoulders.

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When Tragg woke up, the left side of his face felt like it was on fire. His head was almost completely covered with bandages with only a gap on his right side for his eye to peek through.

 _What happened to me?_

The young shrew tried feeling his face but before he could, he felt a paw grasp his and he slowly turned his head to see Flugg's tear-stained face. "Bless ye, ye're awake! Don't move. I'll take care o' ye."

The two shrews were in the slave's infirmary. Bertvar only let some of the slaves that were severely injured stay there in the care of their other fellow slaves. The young shrew was lying on a small cot and he could see a few other wounded and sick beasts not far from him.

"What th'… where…"

"Don't worry about a thing, Tragg. Ye jus' stay here 'n' rest."

Tragg struggled to sit up and looked at his cousin straight in the eyes. "How bad is it?" He asked gruffly, pointing to his bandaged face. "It feels like a blazing fire, but I can't tell how badly damaged it is. How bad is it?" he repeated. _I have to know._

Tragg's heart almost stopped beating as he saw the look that flashed in Flugg's eyes.

"I'm… I'm sorry, Tragg," Flugg said, trying not to look at him in the eye, "but I'm afraid that ye'll never see out o' your left eye again."

Tragg leaned back down on his cot and clenched his fists, staring blankly up at the underground ceiling with his one good eye, a slow tear making its way down his face.

"Er… I'll go ask one o' th' other slaves if they'll fetch ye a drink," Flugg said, walking away slowly. He figured that Tragg would probably want to be alone for a while.

Tragg knew would never look the same again. His face would be forever scarred. No matter where he'd go or how far he went, his eye would always remind him of Bertvar's cruelty. _I'll never be useful! I could barely fight with two eyes, and now I've only got one! I've lost my parents, clan, and home. I'll… I'll probably never see Rones or my sister ever again._

Tragg rolled onto his side. He remembered one time when he had been five seasons old and he had jumped on a sharp rock, giving his footpaw a good-sized (and quite painful) cut.

" _Ye'll be alright, laddie," Broge had said as he wrapped Tragg's foot with a cloth, "I've already wiped away most o' th' blood. Ye can look now."_

 _Tragg had put his paws over his eyes as he cried. At such a young age, he had been terrified at the sight of blood – even if it was only a few drops of blood._

" _B-but it still 'urts, Daddy, 'n' I fink dat it must've cutted it wite t' da bone!"_

 _Tying the cloth securely, Broge lifted his small son up unto his shoulders. "There," he said, smiling at Tragg, "does that feel better?"_

 _The young shrew nodded. "I… I guess so." Since he couldn't quite see his foot anymore, Tragg was already starting to forget about his injury (As young beasts do sometimes). "Do y' fink I'll ever get 'urted again, Daddy?"_

 _Broge paused. Then, lifting Tragg off his shoulders, he set him down on a flat rock and sat beside him. "Let me tell ye something, laddie. Now ye know that I'm th' Chief o' our clan, right?"_

 _Tragg nodded._

" _Well… One day, I… I won't be leader anymore. An' that means that ye'll be th' next chief of the Northtrekkers."_

" _But I dinnae wanna be chief, Daddy, I fink it's too 'ard. Can't I jus' play instead?"_

 _Broge smiled and shook his head. "Listen, son. Being a leader_ is _tough, I'll admit that, but I want ye tae remember something; no matter what Fate throws at ye, always get back up, even if its 'ard, 'n' everythin' that ye love 'n' 'old dear is lost, jus' keep going. Giving up is sometimes worse than losin'."_

" _Okay, Daddy, I'll try to remember." Tragg replied, nodding his small head. "I won't give up..."_

Tragg was brought back to the present as Flugg cautiously walked back, trying his best to gauge Tragg's mood. "Um… An' otter said he'd fetch ye a drink – he seemed like a nice fellow. Er… Are ye… okay? I mean, nobeast would blame ye if ye felt 'orrible… It's jus'… Oh I don't know. I wanna 'elp but I don't know how."

Tragg felt like he could hear his father's words as if he had just spoken them. _'No matter what Fate throws at ye, always get back up. Giving up is sometimes worse than losing.'_ Breathing deeply, Tragg wiped his paw over his good eye and tried to smile at his best friend. "Aye, I'm alright, Flugg. An' don't worry. Ye're being 'elpful by jus' being 'ere." The shrew suddenly remembered that he wasn't the only one who was sentenced to be punished for the attempted escape. "Where… Where's Dunagan?"

Flugg leaned forward and whispered sadly, shuddering, "Those scum chopped off his left ear. Th' other slaves said that they'll never forget his screams. He's chained tae a rock not far from 'ere. He's always got at least two guards watching him at all times," His cousin replied. "Apparently, woundin' an attacking beast in self-defense is a pretty big deal around 'ere," Flugg added with a scowl.

Tragg felt the bandage on his face. "How long does this 'ave tae be here?"

Flugg shrugged. "I'm not sure tae be honest. One o' th' mice here used tae be a trained healer, an' he said that ye should try tae keep it covered for as long as possible. Oh! I almost forgot tae tell ye, rumor has it that Bertvar is expecting boats any day now tae take us tae this place called Terramort. We're not sure when we'll leave, but some of the older slaves said that it shouldn't be long now."

"Will _all_ of th' slaves be going?"

Flugg shrugged. "Yer guess is as good as mine."

An old otter, with a scar running down his cheek and with only half of a tail, walked up and handed Tragg a cup of water. "My name is Tulg. I'm one of th' blokes who's allowed t' stay unchained so I can take care of th' wounded. Do you need anything?"

"My eye," Tragg said, groaning as a spasm of pain shot through the left side of his face.

Tulg chuckled. "Sorry, matey, can't 'elp y' there. Just thought I'd let you both know that th' vermin are beginning t' round up th' slaves. The boats must 'ave arrived."

"Oh," Flugg replied, looking at all of the sick and wounded slaves. "What about th' injured?"

"I'm afraid that they'll just 'ave t' make due," Tulg replied, "I'm not sure that some of th' weaker slaves will make it t' be honest. But we're gonna try our best."

A large ferret and a few others suddenly walked up, cracking their whips in the air. "Time t' go, y' worms. Move!"

Tulg and Flugg both helped Tragg to his feet. The young shrew's head was pounding with a headache but he gritted his teeth and stood up. Some of the other nearby slaves ran over and helped all the injured and sick to their feet. As the vermin started to herd them all toward a tunnel entrance, some of the younger woodland children started to wail.

"SHARRUP!" A voice boomed out, and Furgly the fox walked up and growled at the young slaves, making them cry even louder. "Sharrup or I'll flay yer 'ides!"

Parents quickly covered the young ones' mouths as they tried to keep them quiet. A few loud whimpers would randomly break out, but otherwise, they remained silent.

As Tragg and Flugg walked by Furgly, the fox tripped the wounded shrew with his footpaw. Tragg fell forward and only just managed to stop his injured face from hitting the ground.

"Why, ye murderin' slime-faced piece o' mud!" Flugg leapt forward and tried to tackle the fox.

He was yanked back by Dunagan. The left side of his head was tied with a cloth to keep the stump - that had once been his ear – from getting infected. The hedgehog was still kept under a close watch but he was free to walk along with the other slaves, which was fortunate for Flugg, since Dunagan just stopped him from doing something incredibly foolish.

"Hold on there, young one," the hedgehog said, keeping the struggling shrew from hurling himself at Furgly. "No good will come from you just throwing yourself at that filth."

"'Ey, watch who yer callin' 'filth', hedgepig. Besides," Furgly sniggered, "ye're one t' be talkin' 'bout other beasts lookin' funny. Why, look at yerself," the fox jabbed at where Dunagan's ear used to be, "y're no pretty picture yerself."

Now if Dunagan had Flugg's hot temper, he would have tried snuffing out the fox's life with his bare paws there and then. However, weeks and weeks of slavery had taught the hedgehog to keep calm and quiet when it came to taunts – especially taunts from creatures that were well armed and looking for an excuse to fight.

"Alright then," Furgly snarled, "Move along!"


	33. Chapter 32

**Author Note:**

 **Abrahem: Yes. I felt like the readers haven't seen that much of Broge and Tragg's interaction so I think there might be a few more flashbacks coming. And yup, Furgly and Grunner will probably be at each other's throats before long. XD**

 **Waycaster: "Rones and Rosebud stands for: R &R" Nice, Waycaster! I never thought of that. XD I'm glad you liked the flashback with Broge. **

**Firestar the Warrior: Of Rones will feel guilty alright! "Though we shall have to wait and see" is probably my official catch-phrase. XD**

 **Redwallfan22: Yes he shall! He shows up in the next chapter with Terramort so that'll probably be the chapter after this next one. Thank you so much for reviewing! I appreciate all of my readers' opinion and I'm not doing this for money so reviews are like the only payment I get. XD Anyway, have a great week and I hope to hear from you again.**

 **The Grey Coincidence: Yup! Rones has the rapier.** **To be honest, I had been kicking around a couple ideas about what had happened to Flugg's missing weapon but after a lot of pondering and contemplating I decided to go with Rones having it all along. (I think your review might've inspired that by the way, so thanks!)**

 **JP fanfic: Thank you, JP! That's pretty cool coming from you because your book has a TON of really good world-building. I'm really glad that you like it!**

000000000000000

 **SALAMANDASTRON'S NORTHERN SHORE**

The sky was turning dark as Keva Strongbow and the other otters led Snowpetal and the wounded Sergeant One-Ear into the famous Holt of the Rogue Crew Otters.

The Holt was protected by the harsh weather by two large rocky hills that together formed a natural barrier. It was large enough for at least five-score beasts to live in. Not only was there the main holt, but there were also a few more smaller ones scattered close by within the rocky crags. The otters living there felt that they had little to fear since it was quite rare for a tribe with their fearsome reputation to be attacked.

"Th' scouts are back!" a voice called out from a lookout rock as the company passed through the entrance, "An' they brought company!"

Otters appeared from all over. Young babes clung to their mothers as they gazed out shyly at the newcomers, while the rest peppered their returning kin with questions.

Keva nodded for the otters holding the stretcher bearing Sergeant One-Ear to follow her. "We need t' get him t' my father's healers right away," the female otter explained to Snowpetal, "they're used to treatin' battle wounds since our tribe is always fightin' vermin hordes non-stop."

Snowpetal nodded slowly. Now that she had a chance for her memories to come back, she felt grief and sadness wash all over her again for her dead brother, threating to overwhelm the hare.

Keva Strongbow wrapped a comforting arm around Snowpetal. "I understand that yew're probably tired, and that yew still need t' grieve for yer brother." Indicating for two female otters to come forward, Keva gave them their orders. "I want y' both t' take this young lass t' one of th' dens. Make sure she gets some rest, I need t' go report t' my father."

It was only after she was sure that the two hares were in good paws, that Keva left, looking for her Chief.

000000000000000

To say that Chief Bonecrusher was outraged would be the understatement of the season.

"What?! Vermin on _my_ shores?!"

Keva stood patiently as she watched her father pace back and forth. She had given her report and decided that it would be wise to remain silent until after he had calmed himself down.

Chief Askarr Bonecrusher was a fearsome sight. The massive otter was staggeringly tall. Muscles and veins popped out from his arms, and he growled out to himself as he walked back and forth.

"Blasted vermin attacking Salamandastron! Pfft! Don't th' scoundrels know that the fearsome Askarr Bonecrusher and his mighty clan protect these shores?! Honestly, creatures 'ave no memory these days! Do I 'ave t' beat th' hard fact into every single one of th' scums' head?"

Finally having finished his angry pacing, the otter chieftain stopped and glanced over at Keva. "How many of these vermin were there again?"

"Some of th' scouts that we sent came back 'n' reported that there are hundreds… maybe even thousands of 'em! We don't know fer sure 'cause there are more of 'em all around th' mountain."

"Hmm… thousands, eh?" Askarr clapped his massive paws together, a smile breaking out on his face, "Well, now _that_ sounds like a fun challenge! Gather th' Rogue Crew! We're going fer a party with some vermin!"

000000000000000

 **SALAMANDASTRON'S SHORE**

The sun had set in the west. The dark clouds were blocking the dim half-moon from shedding any of its light. It was now, during the darkest parts of the night, that Blue-Eyes swung his plan into action.

With two dark crows carrying them, Blue-Eyes and three other corsairs – two rats and a fox that were known for their expert skill in battle – were dropped on Salamandastron's mountainside behind a crag of rocks not far from the crater. Normally, it would be hard for even the sharp-eyed Long Patrol Hares to see intruders at the dead of night, but it was nearly impossible for them to spot them now since the four vermin had coated their fur so that they all blended in with the dark night. (The crows, of course, were already black-feathered, so the only thing they had to worry about was that they remain silent… or suffer the wrath of Blue-Eyes, or even worse, Baro Steelclaws.)

"Now, I doubt I have to remind any of you about keeping silent," Blue-Eyes whispered softly in the darkness, "If anything goes wrong, then I'm sure Captain Hookarm would only be too pleased to rip the tongues right out of your heads."

Blue-Eyes couldn't quite see for sure in the darkness, but he had no doubt that the three vermin and the crows had all nodded in reply.

"Now," he continued, "fan out but keep low. If you see any hares, then give the signal or crawl back to me and report."

Using every amount of cover possible the small group began to crawl up toward the mountaintop.

000000000000000

 **SALAMANDASTRON**

Lagworth was in a foul mood… In other words; all was normal.

The hare bully had been caught trying to force some of the younger cadets into doing his chores. So, one of the captains had ordered him to bring all the sentries on the mountain crater their dinner for one week straight. Although the punishment wasn't severe in any way, that didn't stop Lagworth from complaining and growling to his self.

"What's wrong with everybeast in this mountain? I was only havin' a little bally fun with the weaklings. They didn't _have_ t' do what I told 'em!" the hare grumbled as he stomped down one of the mountain's tunnels, Lagworth grinned nastily as he added to himself, "Then again, most of 'em know what would happen if they didn't!"

The large cadet was carrying a torch in one paw and wooden tray of food in the other. He had only two more plates to deliver until he could finally go back down to his room and go to sleep. His paws were tired of this dull work and he felt like it had been too long since he had used them to punch something… or someone.

He went around one more bend and finally came to the mountain's crater where the last two guards were posted. His eyes instantly narrowed as he saw Amber and Charlie both sitting with their backs to him, talking as they peered out into the darkness far below.

Lagworth seethed to himself silently and ducked back into the tunnel. Charlie and Amber had been a serious thorn in his side for a while now. They were they only two cadets that had the backbone to stand up to him. _Why should they of all beasts benefit from my work?_ Lagworth grinned to himself as an idea wiggled its way into his brain. _Well, they can both starve for all I care! That'll teach 'em a lesson!_

He was about to backtrack down the tunnel when he suddenly heard the sound of Colonel Brewster and another hare walking up behind him. He darted out of the tunnel, and crawled over the edge of the crater. The surface wasn't steep luckily (Though unfortunately, full of sharp rocks), and, using the dark black night to his advantage, he hid, poking his head out only to glance at the newcomers.

He watched from his hard, sharp, and severely uncomfortable hiding spot as Colonel Brewster and Private Eric Swiftfoot passed by him.

 _Great! Now what should I do? They'll both probably be chatting with those two numbskulls for hours! That would be a pretty pickle if I tried to climb back up and they saw me!_ He could only just imagine what kind of chores he'd be stuck doing if the Colonel had found out he was planning to purposely not give two hungry guards – one of them the Colonel's son, in fact – their rightful share of food. He'd probably be scrubbing pots for the rest of his life!

 _Maybe if I just crawl down this slope I can sneak over to a different group of guards._ Lagworth knew that there were quite a few windows and openings that had to be guarded at all times during a siege. Maybe if he was lucky some-beast would let him back in without asking too many questions.Nodding his head to himself, the cadet started to climb down the mountain slope, moving as slow as possible since the darkness made it hard for him to even see the paw in front of his face.

000000000000000

Blue-Eyes and his group had been crawling upward steadily but surely for a good half hour. One misstep or one wrong paw-hold and the unlucky beast could easily break a bone or even lose their life.

Blue-Eyes was in the middle of crawling over a large rock when he suddenly heard a few pebbles falling down ahead of him, and the sound of a beast muttering to himself.

"Ouch! Stupid bally rock! Wot!"

The weasel froze. Moving his paw slowly, he grasped the handle of the long thin sword that he wore in a sheath slung over his back. He drew it slowly. The blade had been rubbed with ashes so that it would be harder to see, but Blue-Eyes couldn't stop it from making at least a slight noise as metal slid on metal.

The creature ahead of him (Blue-Eyes assumed it was a hare by its accent) suddenly stopped.

Blue-Eyes held his breath until finally, the hare ahead of him shrugged and once again started to crawl, stumbling over rocks in the darkness.

Once the creature in front of him was close enough, Blue-Eyes set his sword down and pulled out a small blowpipe from his belt. All four of the vermin had been armed with them. One shot from them could knock a beast unconscious for a short amount of time. Blue-Eyes was interested in prisoners, not dead beasts.

Waiting until the hare had stumbled so close that it would almost be impossible to miss, Blue-Eyes put the blowpipe to his lips and shot at the clumsy creature, making the hare gasp as it was hit, then fell face forward.

000000000000000

When Lagworth opened his eyes, he wondered why in Gates was he lying down on hard rocks with his paws tied behind his back and a cloth gagging in his mouth. He also wondered why his head had a headache the size of three badgers. And on top of that, why was he suddenly feeling something brush his ears!

"I'd advise you not to move," a voice like silk whispered not far from him, "I'd list off a few threats that would happen to you if you did, but I think I'll just let you imagine them for me."

When Blue-Eyes' dart had hit Lagworth, the cadet had dropped like a log. Blue-Eyes had then ordered for the other vermin to quietly carry him behind a large rock where they now lay, their weapons clutched in their paws as they looked for any sign of Long Patrol sentries.

"Now, if you promise to be an exceptionally well-behaved lad," Blue-Eyes continued, tapping Lagworth's neck with the tip of his long sword, "I'll release you of your bonds and gag."

Seeing the young cadet nod his head, the weasel reached forward and after a little bit of scuffling in the darkness, untied Lagworth. "There. Feel better?"

Lagworth glanced around, trying to make out where he was. "W-w-what are you chaps gonna do with me? Wot wot?"

"I think that that depends entirely on you, my lad." Blue-Eyes ordered for one of the nearby rats to come forward and pour them drinks.

As Lagworth took the beaker of wine, he glanced over suspiciously at Blue-Eyes. Once he saw the weasel take a few sips out of his cup the cadet downed the cup with one go. _Hmph! None of the officers had ever let me drink wine before, and this weasel hasn't ordered me killed yet … They sure don't seem as bally bad as everybeast makes them out to be. Wot._

"Ahem."

Lagworth's thoughts were interrupted as the tall weasel coughed.

"Oh," he replied, setting down the empty cup, "Er… So what do you want with me, eh?"

"To have your guts ripped out from you and hung on a pike to dry in the sun," Blue-Eyes replied matter-of-factly.

"Oh…" Lagworth's face went pale.

The weasel sighed, shaking his head. "I'm only joking, young one. Though I'm sure Hookarm and Baro wouldn't have second thoughts of doing just that … Anyway, back to business. I want you to go back into the mountain and bring me back one or more hostages and–"

"Wait just a minute!" Lagworth peered up at his captor as hope began to dawn in his eyes. "Y-you mean you're gonna let me go?"

"Yes. Please don't interrupt. As I was saying–"

"But what makes you think that I'd work for you?"

Blue-Eyes smiled. _Ah, young warriors. They think they're so brave._ Instead of directly answering Lagworth's question, he instead folded his paws and leaned forward. "Tell me, have you ever heard of the sickness called the Darkdeath of the Southern Isles?"

Lagworth hadn't, but he wasn't going to let his captor know that. "Er… Yes. I do, actually. I know what the, uh… what-ever-its-called sickness is, an' that's a fact!"

Blue-Eyes' eyes glinted with a cold amusement. "Actually, my boy, you don't. The Darkdeath is a rare and deadly sickness that gives its victim's an almost indescribably painful death. Not only is it severely painful, but there are only a few beasts in all of the lands that knows its cure, hence, making it one of the most feared plagues yet to scourge the Southern Isles."

"But how does that concern me?"

Blue-Eyes' gaze dropped to the dim shape of Lagworth's empty cup. "I slipped a certain poison inside your wine that has probably spread the Darkdeath into every inch of your body by now."

Lagworth tried to leap up with fury but hesitated once he felt Blue-Eyes' sword tip press down hard on his throat. That, however, wasn't enough to stop the cadet from blurting out. "Y-you _poisoned_ me? Of all the evilest bloomin' things a chap could do–"

"Keep silent! Or I shall kill you here and now!" The weasel glanced around in the darkness, hoping that the young hare's outburst hadn't been heard. Satisfied that there were no signs of discovery, he continued, "Now, sit still and pay close attention. I'll only tell you this once…"


	34. Chapter 33

**Author note:**

 **JP fanfic: Yes. "Fishy stuff going on" is probably the best way to describe the situation. XD**

 **Shellypoo: Thank you for reading, fav/ following, and reviewing! It will probably be a while until you read this, but I just wanted to tell you thanks.**

 **Waycaster: I think Bonecrusher himself is eager to see himself back in battle as well! XD Yes-siree, Lagworth is poisoned. As for more despicable… we shall see, won't we? May your heart be your guiding key!**

 **Abrahem: I'm glad you like Bonecrusher! His name seemed to fit, so I'm glad you liked it as well!**

 **Ahem, yes. In the Redwall Community Forum we just ship two random people for the fun of it. (It's not like anyone takes it very seriously. I myself have been shipped a couple times as well. XD) and yes, we absolutely LOVE your reviews and I hope you continue to read and enjoy our stories.** **Have a great day!**

 **Firestar the Warrior: Yes, Lagworth is going to be a loose cannon in these upcoming Salamandastron chapters. I'm glad you like it! Happy reading to you!**

 **The Grey Coincidence: Last but definitely not least, The Grey Coincidence!** **Yes, I think we shall see how Askarr's straightforward plan shall go. (I've been wanting to put Askarr in a battle so hopefully he'll get the chance sometime soon)**

 **I've gotta admit that Blue-Eyes is one of my personal favorite baddies to write. "I'll just let you imagine them" was one of my favorite quotes from our weasel so far.**

 **Yes… It does seem rather impossible for Lagworth to come out of this without dying either way. Interesting guess about the wine not being poisoned… I'm just going to have to say "No further comment" until we see what happens for ourselves. *Wink wink***

 **Have a great day everyone! Happy reading to you!**

000000000000000

 **ROGUE CREW HOLT**

Snowpetal was awoken by the sounds of stirring outside the cave where she was sleeping. She leaned up on the cot that she was laying on and tried to see what was going on with her bloodshot red eyes. It had taken a long while for her to fall asleep because she had been plagued with nightmares of her brother's death.

The morning sunlight coming in through the cave opening was suddenly cut off as Keva Strongbow walked in, a cheerful smile on her face. "Good morning, lass, 'ow do y' feel?"

Snowpetal groaned and rolled onto her side. "Besides the fact that I couldn't fall asleep with all the nightmares I kept having, I'm just peachy," she mumbled sarcastically.

"Oh." The smile of the female otter's face immediately vanished. "I… I'm sorry. Um…" Keva paused awkwardly. Then, shaking herself mentally, she continued, "I just thought I'd let you know that my father, Chief Askarr Bonecrusher, has ordered us to prepare to leave."

Snowpetal sat up. "Where?"

"Well to Salamandastron of course! Once the Chief heard about the vermin he sent out messengers all over to get help. Two-score otters from the surrounding tribes already arrived last night!"

Jumping up from her cot, Snowpetal briefly tried to smooth out the wrinkles in her tunic and grabbed her dirk. "When did you say we were leaving? Wot wot."

"I'm actually not sure. I think we will leave once our warriors are prepared an' more reinforcements come."

 _Finally! I'm going to get my chance to avenge Lancejack!_

"Would you like to go visit your friend?" Keva asked. "I asked th' healers an' they said that it would be okay fer yew to go see 'im if yew wanted."

"Oh…" Snowpetal shifted her footpaws. "Okay. Sure."

Keva noticed how she had paused before she replied. The young otter shrugged to herself. "Let's go then."

Walking through the bustling camp, Snowpetal could see the obvious signs of preparation for war. Spears and axes were passed out to otter warriors or stored in large piles. Otters who had just woken up were already bustling around, either cooking breakfast or preparing the camp for their departure.

The scent of fresh bread was in the air. And that wasn't the only thing. The smell of Hotroot soup was a powerful odor due to the extremely hot pepper that all otters everywhere across the lands were known for loving.

Directly across from the cave that Snowpetal had stayed in was the Holt's Healer Den. Keva nodded to the old scarred otter who was sitting by the entrance as she led Snowpetal inside.

Snowpetal was impressed. She had expected just a regular cave but she saw now that whoever had designed this had put the comfort of the injured beasts in mind.

The cave had been carved so that it resembled a small square room. The floor was planked with wood and there were windows covered with shutters in the sides of the walls.

Walking over to where Sergeant One-Ear lie, Keva stood back and let Snowpetal walk forward.

"Um… Sergeant, how are you feeling?"

One-Ear's eyes focused on her and recognition suddenly dawned in them. "Oh, it's you." He smiled. "I've been better but I'm sure I'll pull through. It'll take a lot more that some vermin to kill me." He broke off suddenly as he started to cough. "How… er… Did you sleep well after…uh…" his voice trailed off.

Snowpetal shrugged awkwardly. "Um… Yeah. I had nightmares but that's to be expected. Living in the Long Patrol for this many seasons has taught me to prepare for stuff like that."

One-Ear meant to chuckle grimly but it ended up sounding like a weak croak. "I've been in the Long Patrol longer than you 'ave, missy, an' I don't think that there is anythin' that can bloomin' prepare anybeast to lose loved ones." He reached a paw out and weakly grasped her paw. "I know what you're going through. I've lost quite a few mates myself. If you ever need a friend then I'll be here for you."

Snowpetal quickly brushed a paw across her eyes. "Thanks, Sarge, that means a lot, but don't worry 'bout me. Just focus on getting better."

"Yeah, about that…" One-Ear turned his gaze on Keva, who had been standing awkwardly to the side. "I hear that Chief Askarr is getting ready to leave to the jolly ol' mountain, eh? Am I right?"

"Aye. Hopefully we'll be gone by noon."

One-Ear's gaze hardened. "I asked your bloody healers and they had the jolly nerve to say I won't be going with you! Apparently I'm supposed to stay here an' feel sorry for myself!"

"Now, now, Sergeant, yew must stay here an' heal. We're not sure if yer wounds are completely clean of poison yet and–"

"So what?! Are you asking me to sit on my tail while my daughter and my fellow hares are dying in a battle that's less than a day's march away?!"

Keva tried to intervene. "Now calm down–"

"–I AM CALM! I've never been this bloody calm in my whole life! Wot!"

Snowpetal and Keva exchanged glances as the healer den went silent at One-Ear's outburst.

"It doesn't seem like that t' me, Sergeant." Keva commented.

One-Ear scoffed and leaned back on his bed. "Look. I get that you're trying to do what you think is best for me an' all… But I couldn't rest 'ere if I knew that my daughter was in danger an' there was somethin' I could jolly do about it!"

Keva opened her mouth then closed it. After thinking carefully, she said, "Okay. I'll ask Chief Askarr about you joining us. Don't get yer hopes up though."

"Of course not," the hare replied, satisfied that his case was at least going to be heard. "I'll wait."

000000000000000

 **SALAMANDASTRON**

Lagworth found himself pacing up and down his room. He looked quite the sight. He had bags under his red eyes from lack of sleep and his fur was prickly and ruffled.

Since he was one of the senior cadets he had been given the option of sleeping in his very own room or staying in the barracks with the other cadets, and Lagworth had obviously chosen his own room. He was very glad he did. There was nowhere else in the whole mountain that he felt safer in then his room. Even though he was still poisoned and being blackmailed by vermin who were right outside on Salamandastron's shores he took comfort in his familiar surroundings.

 _Argh! Why did that stupid weasel have to pick me of all hares to do his dirty work?_ He wondered, walking from one end of his room to the next. _I mean, this Darkdeath sickness sounds pretty bloody serious! I… I can't die this young! It's… it's against the bally rules!_

After Blue-Eyes had let him go, Lagworth had carefully crawled up to a few of the guards who were guarding one of the small window openings. After they had let him up he had told them that he had been on an errand for the Head Cook. He dearly wished that his lie had been true and extra kitchen chores were all he had to worry about.

His pacing got faster and faster as he continued to try to think of a way, any way out of this new predicament. Finding none, he plopped down onto the floor and put his head in his paws. His brain was beginning to hurt from all of the stress.

Sighing, the cadet got back on his paws. He felt slightly guilty about what he had to do, but Blue-Eyes said that he didn't want to hurt anybeast. He only needed hostages to ensure that Lord Rockfur would give them enough gold for needs. Besides, Charlie had been a serious pain in the tail for a while now. _I mean, it's not like Charlie's going to get hurt or anything,_ Lagworth thought to himself. Nodding his head to himself, Lagworth walked out of his room and followed the tunnel that would lead him to the barracks where Charlie slept.

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Charlie yawned as he made his way down the tunnel that led to the Mess Hall. He and Amber had had watch duty for the earlier part of the night and he was looking forward to a good breakfast. His cheerful walking suddenly faltered as he saw Lagworth walking down the opposite end of the corridor toward him.

 _I wonder what that bully wants now!_ Charlie, however, wasn't keen on finding out. Just as his paw reached the handle of a side door that led to the kitchens, Lagworth called out.

"Hey, Charlie, wait a jolly minute! I have to tell you something! Wot!"

"Um… No thanks, Lagworth, I rather need to eat breakfast still, and I'm sure you're busy doing…Lagworth-ishy kind of things, tootle-pip and cheerio!"

The conversation would've ended there and then, but Lagworth quickly ran forward and grabbed Charlie's shoulder before the smaller cadet could escape.

"Now hang on to your blooming britches there, Charlie," Lagworth said, keeping the younger fidgeting hare from going anywhere. "I need to tell you something. Wot wot."

"Fine," Charlie sighed, "What is it?"

"I, uh…" Lagworth's face suddenly lit up as he was hit by an idea. "I wanted to apologize for beating you up the other day. I mean, it's not like you didn't deserve it, but I shouldn't have taken advantage of the fact that you're a weakling."

"Um… Thank you?" Charlie was surprised by the bigger hare's apology. He stopped trying to slowly wiggle out of the other hare's iron grasp and stood there, looking at Lagworth with a bewildered gaze. _Has Lagworth fallen on his head?_ The young hare wondered. _I've never, ever heard him apologize to anybeast before! Not even to the older Long Patrollers!_

"So, uh… I'd like to show you just how jolly sorry I am by showing you something that I've never dared to show anybeast before." Lagworth lowered his voice and glanced around suspiciously, even though there was nobeast in sight. "I know I've probably been a little annoying to you and the other chaps but I'm hoping to make it up to you."

Charlie wanted to point out that Lagworth had been a _lot_ more than "a little annoying" but he decided to remain silent about that. "Okay," he finally said, "Where is this 'secret place'?"

Lagworth held a paw to his lips. "Shh. I'll show you. Follow me."

With one arm around his shoulder so that Charlie couldn't dash off, the two hares started to march up the tunnel that led to the mountain crater.

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Colonel Brewster had woken up early that morning. After doing a few fencing exercises he got dressed and prepared to go out.

As he reached for a short comb his paw accidently knocked over a picture that he had on his desk.

"Confound it all! Aren't I a clumsy fool this morning?" He said aloud to himself.

The Colonel reached over and picked up the picture. Just as he was about to put it back on the desk he hesitated and instead gazed down at it with a loving smile.

On the picture was a painting of him with his deceased wife holding Charlie as a young babe.

"Ah, Chloe, I wish you could see how our lad is growing up. You'd be so proud of him."

A tear rolled off his cheek slowly as he kissed the image of his wife. Brewster had been hit hard by Chloe's death. At first, he had shrugged off any kind of help from his kin or friends and had taken to sitting quietly in his room by himself, just staring out at the shoreline and sulking. Once Charlie had come of age, Brewster had him move in with the other cadets.

It had taken a lot of time and a lot of coaxing from Lord Rockfur to make him "climb out of his shell" and resume living his life. Brewster always had felt a little guilty for making his son join the other cadets at such a young age, but in hindsight, it had probably been for the best, since –at least at the time– Brewster had been going through too much grief to even be a father to his only son.

 _You always were a lot smarter when it had come to this bloody parenting business, Chloe._ Brewster wiped his eyes. _I mean, it's not like Charlie and I don't love each other but…_ The hare sighed. _Oh, I don't know. I still miss you something awful, Chloe._

Brewster's thoughts were suddenly broken as he heard a knock on his door. The Colonel quickly put the picture back in its place on the desk and combed his whiskers with his paws. Once he looked suitable, he walked over to the door, unlocked it, and opened it slowly.

Outside in the hallway stood Private Eric, his face red from panting.

"What's the jolly matter, eh? Wot?" Colonel Brewster asked, grabbing his parade stick from where it lay beside the door. "Are the bloody ol' vermin attacking? Speak up, private!"

"Um… Yes, sir…" Eric replied, throwing his superior a hasty salute, "The vermin are all moving closer. Lord Rockfur said to get you just in case."

"Okay then. Let's jump to it! But first…"

Dashing back into his room, Brewster grabbed a short sword and thrust it into his belt. Then, he hastily threw on a shirt of chainmail. "'Always be prepared', that what my ol' sergeant's motto was back in the day."

Thus, prepared for anything, the two hares ran down the corridor.

000000000000000

Lord Rockfur was wearing a set of his regular armor, it was nothing fancy, but he had been in a rush. He had drawn his broadsword and was leaning on it as he gazed out toward the approaching tide of roughly a thousand vermin.

Half of them were armed with bows and the others carried digging equipment such as shovel, picks, and stretchers for carrying dirt and rock.

As the five hundred vermin archers tried their best to keep the hares pinned down, the vermin diggers would carve out deep trenches in the dirt wherever the ground was soft enough, just at the base of the mountain.

Dark crows flew above out of arrow range, keeping their eyes peeled for a counterattack or other fishy business on the defenders' part.

"I don't think our arrows are doing much bloody good, sah," a female officer called Captain Florence reported, throwing her badgerlord a crisp salute. "Almost all of the vermin that aren't shooting arrows at us are armed with large shields. We've taken a few hits ourselves."

"What's going on, M'lord?" Brewtser asked from behind them.

Lord Rockfur turned to see Colonel Brewster and Eric walking toward them.

"Our wolverine friend is moving his entrenchments forward," the badgerlord replied. "I fear that he and the searats are tired of waiting to out-siege us."

"Any sign of our allies yet, sah?" The Colonel asked.

The badger shook his head. "Not yet. We don't even know if Sergeant One-Ear and his patrol made it through the vermin lines."

"One-Ear has never failed to come back from a mission yet, sah," Brewster said comfortingly, patting Rockfur's arm. "I'll bet that he'll come galloping over one of these dunes with an army behind his back just when things start to look the blackest."

"Hmm… Hopefully."

Rockfur turned to look at hundreds of vermin digging trenches right below his beloved mountain.

"Well," the badgerlord of Salamandastron said grimly, "if Fate decides that we must fight this battle alone, then so be it. Those vermin might outnumber us ten to one, but by thunder, we'll make rivers of blood flow from this mountain before we surrender!"

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 _Footnote:_ The Grey Warlord _now has 200 reviews! Not only that, but it also has passed its 4,000_ _th_ _view! (4,269 to be exact) I just like to thank all of you readers for taking time to even read my book!_ The Grey Warlord _is roughly half-way done (With at least two sequels planned) and I hope to see all of you lovely people every step… er... page of the way!_

 _Happy reading to you all! ~Sebias of Redwall Abbey~_


	35. Chapter 34

**Author note:**

 **Firestar the Warrior: Yes, One-Ear was getting rather impatient. XD Hopefully he get's to go. I shudder to think what he would do if he didn't.**

 **. 15: I'm glad you're still reading! I hope you like this chapter!**

 **Abrahem: Thanks! I try to make sure that when someone close dies that the character is still somewhat affected. Though, there are a few who manage to slip past but, oh well. Practice makes perfect.** **Ooh! Interesting guess there! Grey guessed the same thing! (I love it when my readers come up with theories** **) However, I obviously won't say either way because if they were related, that would take away the surprise, but if they weren't, then hopefully the theory might've distracted you all from a different possibility…**

 **Waycaster: Yes, sirree! I think I picked a rather good name for Book II since that's basically all we get to see him do…watching. Even though technically, he's already swung some things into action. Be they for good or ill I don't know… (Who am I kidding, I'm the author! Of course I do. XD)**

 **JP fanfic: Ooh! Three reviews! Nice! Yes, Salamandastron's hope only gets worse and worse. Oh man! I've heard** _ **A Boy Named Sue**_ **by Johnny Cash! We used to have friends who would sing that all of the time! It fit's Bertvar perfectly. :-P And yup, Broge is alive! (I loved writing his return scene)**

 **The Grey Coincidence: Yes, I think that's a popular theory about Keva and Sebias. I guess it *could* be possible. In fact, there might be a very good chance it is, but… (… Long lengthy poiler inserted here…) You know, I think you're right about Lagworth and Snotlout being rather similar. My younger siblings were listening to the HTTYD 2 audio book and there was one scene with Snotlout and (after reading your review) I could easily see Lagworth doing something like that to Hiccup. Yes, the arrival of Askarr is a much waited affair. We shall see how things progress. Happy reading to you!**

 **Shellypoo: Why thank you! I do try to make sure that there are a least a few grey characters in my book.** **I'm glad you're still reading! Have a great day!**

 **Phew! That was a long Author note… Now, to the chapter!**

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 **TERRAMORT: SLAVE PITS**

The moon shone brightly in the night sky as the digging slaves filed back into the Slave Pits.

Abe Hardspike groaned as he leaned backwards slowly. He heard the satisfying sound of his spine crack as he stretched it.

His new "home" was a large cave where King Bloodfur kept a portion of his digging slaves. The searat king was wary of slave uprisings so he thought it best to keep them all as separated as possible. The caves – Or Slave Pits, as they were commonly known as – were kept under a very heavy guard and even the smallest of them had large wooden gates blocking the exits.

It had been a hard first day of moving stone for the hedgehog slave. However, his muscles had already been hardened from working in fields before he had been captured, and all the time he had spent as a rowing slave had made them doubly so. Still, life as a slave on Terramort wasn't easy, as many of the slaves around him already knew.

Abe was just about to lie down on a vacant spot of dirt, where he planned to sleep for the night, when he felt a paw tap him on the shoulder. Turning around, Abe looked and recognized the beast as the scarred shrew that had helped him earlier.

"Oh. Hello there, Broge." Abe smiled, indicating the patch of dirt. "Is this your spot?"

"No." Broge replied with a chuckle. Looking around suspiciously, he put a paw to his lips secretly in a sign for the hedgehog to keep silent and nodded his head over to the other end of the dark cave. "Would ye mind followin' me. I'd like ye tae meet th' others."

"Um…okay."

Being a slave had taught Abe not to ask any unnecessary questions if possible. Most of the time, it was better to just flow along with whatever everybeast else was doing.

Weaving through the crowd of sleeping slaves, Broge led Abe through the dark cave toward a small group of huddled beasts in a small circle a little ways off from the other slaves. Abe could see that the group consisted of a young mouse, an ancient looking vole, (And to Abe's surprise) a one-armed stoat. Most of them were skinny and covered with scars, but it was plain to his eyes that these beasts were anything but broken to slavery.

Broge sat down among the small group and indicated for Abe to do the same by patting the ground beside him with his paw.

The hedgehog sighed contentedly as he got off his weary footpaws. Glancing around at the others, he cleared his throat. "Er… Hello. My name is Abe. It's nice to meet all of you."

The smile on his face faltered as the group fell into a stony silence.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the old vole slowly turned his head to Broge. "Are y' certain tha' we can trust 'im? You _do_ know what could 'appen if th' vermin found out about what we're doing."

Broge bowed his head respectfully at the old vole. "Yes, Kullum, I know th' risks. I've been watching 'im closely. I'm willin' tae take responsibility for 'im."

"Um… I beg your pardon." Abe might have been used to obeying the whims of his masters, but he didn't like it how his fellow slaves were sitting here calmly and talking about him like he wasn't even present! "What do you blokes plan on doing? And who exactly are you all anyway?"

The old vole gave his companions a weak smile, showing how the old creature's few teeth were all cracked and yellow from lack of care. "Well, well. This one asks a lot more questions than the others."

Turning back to Abe, the old vole bowed his head politely. "I'm Kullum the Elder. I've been a slave here fer as long as I've been alive. I was one of the lucky beasts t' be born on this place of death and cruelty."

Kullum nodded at the mouse next to him to introduce himself as well.

"Call me Tobias," the young mouse said, leaning over and shaking Abe's paw. The hedgehog noticed how many deep scars were in Tobias' paws. He guessed that most of them were from whiplashes from their slavers.

There was another brief silence, and after a poke from Kullum, the one-armed stoat rolled his eyes and spat, "I'm Slashblade the Deathbringer. Just make sure that y' do what yer told an' we should be fine."

Broge chuckled from where he sat. "Don't mind 'im," he told Abe, "Slashblade is just a beast who doesn't like tae trust easy. Don't take it personal."

"I'd feel a lot better if I knew why you dragged me over here in the first place," the hedgehog replied, still curious to what was going on. "I mean it's great to meet you all, but did we need to talk about something? You're all probably just as tired –if not more so– than I am, so shouldn't we get to sleep before dawn?"

Broge folded his paws and leaned forward, his voice low and gruff. "Tell me, what would ye think if I told ye that there might be a wee chance of ye escaping from this 'ere rock o' misery?"

 _Home?_ Abe was silent as dozens of thoughts threatened to overwhelm him. _I might see my children again! Maybe I won't a slave for the rest of my life. Maybe…_ He stopped. What if he didn't make it? What if he died trying to escape? What would happen?

"What… what do you have in mind?" he asked cautiously.

Slashblade the stoat answered for Broge. Holding up his one arm, the vermin glanced down at his claws. "Are yew in or out?"

Abe ignored the hesitant feeling in his gut and blurted out, "Aye, I'm in!"

"Keep your voice down, yew fool!" Broge hissed, looking all around to see if any of the other slaves had heard the hedgehog. A few shot them tired glances but then dropped back to sleep. Breathing a sigh of relief, Broge turned back to Abe. "Okay then. We'll tell ye more tomorrow. Now that we know that ye're in, we might need to hammer out a few details."

Slashblade snarled, "Just remember, 'edgepig, I'm gonna keep my eyes on yew until I'm sure that yew're not playin' us false."

"Don't worry," Abe said, his eyes taking on a sudden spark of anger. "I'd never help these searats no matter what they say or promise. They killed my wife an' I'd do anything to get my claws on those murderers!"

"Okay then," Kullum said, rubbing his paws. "We'll discuss more tomorrow. Abe was right. We should probably go to sleep. However, let's meet first thing in the morning and see what we can do to get ourselves off this island."

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 **FORT BLOODGARD**

King Bloodfur tapped the sides of his throne idly with his claws. The monarch was bored.

Normally at this time of the day, he and Blue-Eyes would play a few intense rounds of _Game of Armies and Kingdoms_ to keep the rat king's mind sharp, but since the weasel had left, Bloodfur now had to think of some different ways to relax and to fill in his spare time.

"Hmm… What teh do, what teh do…"

Tapping his chin, Bloodfur glanced over at his captain of the guard, who was standing ever present at his side and said, "Bruggor?"

The rat turned toward Bloodfur and made his armor clank loudly as he slapped his arm to his side and raised the other in a salute. "Yessir?"

"Do yew remember if I 'ave anybeast in the dungeons that is in need of an execution or somethin'?"

"Um… I could check sire, but none comes teh mind."

"Hmm…" Leaning back on his throne, Bloodfur shook his head. "Nah, don't bother. I'll save 'em fer a rainy day."

After he had tapped his footpaw on the stone floor for the hundredth time, Bloodfur finally stood up. "Ahem. If anybeast needs me tell 'em I'll be busy in my personal quarters."

"Aye, sir."

Striding over to the side door that connected to a hallway that led to his and the Queen Gabriella's bedroom, he walked down the passageway until he reached it.

Bloodfur never felt the need to post sentries inside the hallway since Bruggor and his guards guarded the Great Hall which was the only way in. And besides, if somebeast thought that the searat king was helpless without soldiers to guard him, they would be in for a terribly unpleasant surprise.

Creaking open the door, Bloodfur tip-toed quietly over to where his son the prince lay in his crib, who was being watched by two female ratmaids who turned and bowed when they saw their master.

"Leave us," he commanded.

Once they had complied and the room was empty, Bloodfur picked up the little Prince Jaskvar and cradled him in his arms.

"By th' fangs of Vulpuz," he smiled, poking his son's small belly, "yew're so tiny. Hopefully yew'll grow a lot bigger by th' time yew're fully grow or yew'll never be able teh kill anythin'."

Jaskvar cooed as he gazed up at Bloodfur.

Hearing footsteps clumping toward the main door, Bloodfur swiftly dropped Jaskvar back into his crib just as he heard the two guards stationed by the door admitting somebeast in.

Queen Gabriella slid smoothly across the floor to her husband.

"Hello, dear. Just checking in to see 'ow th' prince was doing I see?"

"Yeah, somethin' like that." Coughing a little awkwardly, he grinned. "I must be getting' soft in my ol' age, eh?"

Gabriella sat by a table with a plate of fruit on it and popped a grape into her mouth. "Well you're only a few seasons older than me and I'm thirty so… no, I don't think it's your 'old age' making you soft."

Bloodfur and Gabriella's relationship was… rather complicating at times. At first, they had both married for political reasons but unlike many political marriages, theirs' hadn't ended with disaster or murder…yet.

Gabriella knew that if she was to remain in power as queen of Terramort, she had to continue to prove her usefulness to her husband. She proved to be quite talented at being co-ruler, and that was one of the main reasons why she was still queen.

"Well… I actually should go down teh th' armories 'n' workshops 'n' see 'ow th' weapons that I requested are going. And after that I need to get the treaty ready for Slisk teh sign tonight at dinner."

"Alright then," Gabriella said, flicking a cherry seed across the table. "See you at dinner."

Nodding, Bloodfur left.

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 _ **THE RUSTY CUTLASS**_

Captain Slisk came down from her room in _The Rusty Cutlass_ and ordered a cup of seaweed grog. She had some things she wanted taken care of before she left to sign the treaty between her and King Bloodfur.

"Do y' know of any good mercenaries 'round 'ere?" she asked Barko Irongut from where he stood behind the bar. The bartender shrugged for a minute, but then his face lit up as he suddenly remembered something.

"Hmm… I actually might know somebeast. I don't know if you could call her a mercenary exactly, but she's a wicked shot with a knife. Goes by th' name of Igeyorhm. She 'asn't been 'ere long though."

"That shouldn't be a problem, matey." Tossing a silver coin on the bar, she asked, "Where is this Igeyorhm? Is she 'ere?"

Barko nodded and came out from behind the counter. "Aye, I'll show yew."

Waving a paw for Raggar and Fang to follow, Slisk followed the fox. He led them into another side room which was just as full of beasts gambling and drinking as the other. A few corsairs were stretched out on the floor, snoring loudly as they loosely clung to their empty bottles of seaweed grog.

"There," Barko said, pointing to a female pine marten sitting alone in a corner. "That's her. A word of advice though," he added. "If you're gonna pay 'er teh do somethin' then prepare teh pay a lot. She only buys the best of the best, she payed quite 'andsomely for the finest wine we 'ad. She doesn't seem like th' type who's willin' teh do a lot of dirty work unless the payments good."

"My, my, it appears that y' take quite a bit o' interest in yer customers." Slisk said, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.

Barko smiled and shrugged. "Well… I kinda _'ave_ to if I want t' keep my good 'ealth."

"Hmm… Well thanks, I'll leave y' another tip if nothin' goes wrong."

"Thankee, marm, I'll be seeing you." With that, Barko swung around and went back to tending to his other customers.

Raggar rested a paw on his sheathed cutlass. "Shall we go see this Igeyorhm creature, capt'n?"

"Yes," Slisk replied, "but no trouble. We wouldn't want t' catch the wrong kind of attention with King Bloodfur."

The female pine marten's eyes glanced up from where she sat as Slisk, Raggar, and Fang walked up and stood by her table.

"Hello," the pine marten said with a friendly voice, her one paw sliding down under the top of the table so that it was out of sight.

"Ahoy there, mate," Slisk replied, "Mind if we sit down?"

"Sure, go ahead."

Pulling up chairs, the three corsairs sat down. Raggar and Fang keeping their weapons close to paw.

"You are the fearsome Captain Slisk I presume?"

Slisk was slightly taken back, surprised that a stranger would know her name. However, she decided to not give it a second thought since she had probably just heard about her arrival from one of the other corsairs.

"Yeah," Slisk said, smiling. "That's me. An' yer Igeyorhm?"

The female pine marten nodded her head. "It seems that Barko must 'ave already told us about each other."

Slisk blinked as she said aloud to herself. "That actually makes more sense now..." _That tricky fox, he must make quite the coin on selling information._

"So…" Igeyorhm pulled a long dagger out from her belt and set it on the table. "How can we help each other?"

Raggar turned to Slisk and whispered out of the corner of his mouth. "Are yew gonna trust 'er, Capt'n? She might tell Bloodfur fer all we know."

Ignoring her first mate, Slisk pointed a claw at Igeyorhm's dagger. "Can y' use that? I don't mean t' just save yer life or t' get out of a bar fight, I mean can y' _really_ use it?"

Igeyorhm looked amused by her question. "Eh, I'm not bad with knives. Why?"

"Could I see a demonstration first?"

Shrugging, Igeyorhm picked up the dagger. "Give me a target."

Before Slisk could say anything Raggar cut in. "'Ow's about that picture over there of that ship?"

The picture that Raggar was pointing to was all the way across the crowded tavern, hanging about head high on a peg.

Igeyorhm raised an eyebrow and stood up. "Will that work for you, Captain Slisk?"

"Aye," Slisk smiled. "That'll work fine. If y' can't though then–" The searat captain's eyes opened wide with shock as the pine marten's knife suddenly left her paw like a streak of lightning. Flying over the heads of the other drinking corsairs, it plunged deep through the picture and into the wall.

Igeyorhm frowned. "Hmm… It was a little too far to the left…"

"What's y' talkin' 'bout!" Raggar said, jumping up onto his footpaws. "That was one of th' best shots I've ever seen!"

"Yew've obviously never seen _me_ throw a knife," Fang commented under his breath, shooting the rat a glance.

Slisk rose from her chair slowly and dropped a bag of gold onto the table, causing the coins inside to clink together. "Would y' be interested in doing a small job fer me?"

"That depends what it is." Igeyorhm grinned, pulling another knife out of her tunic and tapping the bag of gold with it idly.

Slisk indicated upward with her head. "Not 'ere, let's go up t' my cabin. We 'ave a lot t' discuss…"


	36. Chapter 35

**Author note:**

 **Seakard: Yes, that would be quite a big KABLOOP indeed. XD**

 **Waycaster: Yeah, Tragg and Co would have to paddle pretty fast if they wanted to get to Terramort anytime soon. Then again, anything is possible. Maybe a (Potential to be a Spoiler. :P) picks them up and brings them to the island. XD Yes. *Strokes chin thoughtfully* Just what exactly** _ **is**_ **that rat cooking up now… hmm… We shall wait and see…**

 **Shellypoo: Thanks! I hope you like the next chapters!**

 **Abrahem: Slashblade did indeed lose his arm. (I picture it basically right above the elbow. Man! I need to do some more descriptions. XD) Yes, Bloodfur finally is getting some time with his son. I mean, I guess *technically* he already has spent time with him, but we haven't seen them. (Well, you know what I mean.) XD I'm glad you liked the knife scene! That's cool that you're into knife/dart throwing in real life! (I did a little bit of it before, though I can't really remember if I was that great or not at it. :P) I hope you have a wonderful day as well!**

 **Firestar the Warrior: Hopefully 'escape' is on the menu! XD Though I guess we shall see. I'm glad you liked the family scene! I thought it was about time that they both got a part in a chapter. Thus, we got Jaskvar cooing as his father held him briefly. XD**

 **JP fanfic: Thanks! I hope that you enjoyed Book I as much as I enjoyed writing it!** **And you shall probably get to see more of One-Ear soon…ish. XD**

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 **TERRAMORT: SLAVE PITS**

The late evening sun was sinking down into the horizon. Abe grunted as he heaved a hunk of coal to the slave beside him. Once he had awoken that morning, Broge and Kullum had told him what he would need to do to improve all of their chances of escape.

The slaves around him were buzzing with the news. The Taskmaster was going to choose ten of the mining slaves to help in the kitchens! All of them were positively begging for the position. After all, almost any kind of job in the kitchens was better than gasping for clean air while they tugged lobs of coal and stone.

The vermin in charge of picking the slaves was a ferret called Shortlegs the Taskmaster. Shortlegs lived up to his name. However, it was not wise to judge him by his appearance alone. Shortlegs had a talent for picking up on any quiet whisperings or secrets that he could use to bribe or blackmail his way into power.

"Well, 'ey there, Shorty me matey!" one of the fox slave drivers said cheerfully, waving his whip in a salute idly. 'Ow y' been?"

"Don't call me 'shorty'!" Shortlegs replied, baring his teeth. "An' I ain't yer matey!"

"Woah, calm down there, mate." The fox indicated the surrounding slaves. "I'm guessing that yew're 'ere to pick those new kitchen 'elpers, eh?"

Shortlegs sighed and nodded. "Yes, now get out of my way! Skrunbles the Cook said he would need 'em by sundown."

"Righto, mate!" the fox smiled, patting the short weasel on the back. "Yew get yer job done, an' I'll tend to mine."

Scowling, Shortlegs brushed off the fox's paw and marched off. He would glance around intently at certain slaves, watching how they were preforming their duties, and, after finding out their names, he checked their records.

He was in the middle of flipping through his record files when Broge walked near him and set down a hunk of coal that he had been carrying.

"Greetin', Shortlegs," the scarred shrew said.

Shortlegs had always been happy to get useful information from anywhere, and in the time that Broge had been on Terramort, he had proved to be quite good at digging up random secrets about his masters. They both had always known that if Broge ever got too cocky and tried to sell his secrets to anybeast else, that Shortlegs could easily have him killed. Thus, the shrew was one of Shortleg's most regular informants. Fortunately for Broge, the small weasel was too concerned about his own interests and hunger for power to even question Broge's motives. He had just assumed that he was desperate for extra rations like the other slaves.

"Yes, well." Sniffing, the small weasel said in a dismissive tone. "Is there anythin' of interest that y' wish t' tell me, or are y' 'ere to ask a favor?"

Broge chuckled, though his eyes didn't have any humor in them. "Both."

Shortlegs looked around and leaned in, asking in a low voice, "What's the favor?"

"Ye see mae friend over there?" the broad-shouldered shrew pointed at Abe, who tried his best to look casual. "Well I'd like ye tae sign him up for kitchen duty."

"Pfft! Is that all?" Shortlegs scoffed. "I think it might be possible. Now, t' th' more important question, what's yer payment."

"Information," Broge said, "Not much, but after all, it's not like I'm asking much of ye either."

"Just remember, _I'm_ the one who calls th' shots 'round here." Shortlegs said. "What's th' secret? I'll make sure yer friend is on th' list if it's any good."

"Okay, deal. So I was moving a cart o' coal over by two o' your rat buddies and I… _happened_ tae overhear what they were talkin' about. Apparently they've been doing right well at th' thievin' business an' they were going tae try their luck again wit' a stoat called… Grawler, I believe. They said he lives in the western barracks.

"Hmm… This is good! I think I know th' pair yew're talkin' about." Wetting the tip of his feathered quill with his tongue, he asked, "So… what's yer friend's name that y' want me to put on th' list?"

"Abe," Broge said, "Abe Hardspike. It was a pleasure doing business wit' ye again, Shortlegs."

"Hmm…" Shortlegs waved a paw for Abe to come over. The hedgehog pretended like he had no idea what the Taskmaster could want him for.

"Yew, there," Shortlegs said, looking Abe over with his sharp eyes. "Follow me. Yew're t' be one of the new kitchen 'elpers."

"Why, I don't know what to say!" Abe bowed clumsily. "Thank you, master!"

Shortlegs rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, just sharrup an' follow me."

The weasel missed the look that passed between Broge and Abe as Shortlegs led the hedgehog off. Huffing, the weasel taskmaster went back to the task of choosing more slaves for the kitchens.

000000000000000

 **TERRAMORT: THE KITCHENS**

Once Shortlegs had picked out nine more slaves that had clean records and were somewhat older, he ordered guards to escort them to Fort Bloodgard's kitchens.

They passed through the gate and entered the large building where the normal rank-and-file soldiers ate their food. Bloodfur had always been wary of letting slaves near the food that he himself would eat. And even then, the rat made sure that the food was tested before being brought out to him. One could never be too careful…

"Ah, so these are th' new ones, eh?" a rat with a ridiculously huge belly scoffed as the rat guards brought Abe and the other slaves into the kitchens.

"Aye," the leader of the unit replied. "These are yer new 'elpers. Make sure that they don't 'ave life _too_ easy now, we wouldn't want them t' get soft. Harhar!"

"Yew don't 'ave t' worry about that." Ushering the guards out, the cook sent half of the woodlanders to bring more bags of potatoes in, while the others started peeling them.

Abe was one of the ones who had been ordered to fetch more bags. He and the other starved slaves would eye the piles of food on the counters with longing expressions as they ran back and forth, their arms full of the vegetables.

The place where the potatoes were stored wasn't far, in fact, it was only one room down from the kitchens. However, the guards who were stationed to watch them made sure that they didn't take any unnecessary breaks.

"'Urry up, 'edgehog. If you don't then th' cook might just decide t' serve _you_ fer dinner instead," One of them chuckled, tripping Abe with the butt of his spear as the slave tried to run by. "Oops. Did you slip or somethin', scum?"

Abe just managed to stop his face from hitting the floor by reaching out with both of his paws. He grunted with pain as his paws smacked against the hard floor. Jumping back onto his footpaws, he spat on the floor. "That's it!" he scowled, "You think that you can hurt and kill whoever you please and get away with it. Well! I'm gonna–"

He bared his teeth and started to walk toward the sentry with his fists clenched when he felt a cold spear tip lightly touch the back of his neck.

"Back down, slave, or I'll run you through 'ere an' now."

Abe turned around slowly and saw that the vermin holding the spear to his neck was a large fox. The vermin guards made sure their weapons were ready, and the slaves and workers all paused what they were doing as they watched…and waited.

"Back down." The fox repeated, his hold on the spear tightening.

Abe didn't reply, but relaxed his tense muscles and obeyed.

"Good," the fox said, nodding his head to the kitchens. "Now get back to work."

Abe gritted his teeth as he bowed respectfully, picked up another bag and carried on. The tense atmosphere in the kitchens relaxed and everybeast went back to work as well.

 _I'll wait_ , Abe promised silently to himself, _I'll bide my time. I didn't come this far to be executed. After all, Broge is counting on me to do my part. I'll not fail him._

000000000000000

 **TERRAMORT: FORT BLOODGARD**

After Bloodfur had checked in with his weapon engineers, he had his other advisors write up a treaty for Slisk to sign. He went back into Bloodgard's eating hall and sat down on his large chair at the head of the table. Creatures and corsairs all around waited to continue their conversations and such until Bloodfur waved a dismissive paw for them for continue.

"Has anybeast seen Queen Gabriella yet?" Bloodfur asked Bruggor.

Bruggor shrugged and replied stiffly. "My duty is t' be at yer side, sire. I'm not sure of the whereabouts of th' Queen."

"Hmm… That's rather odd still that no one has seen her," Bloodfur said, clapping his paws for a servant to bring him wine. "Oh well, I'm sure she'll turn up. She's probably feedin' Jaskvar or somethin'."

The searat king and his subjects all turned their heads as Slisk and her crew entered the doors into the Great Hall. Most of them took their seats and mingled in with the crowd, but two of them, Raggar and Fang, stayed on either side of Slisk while she took her seat by King Bloodfur.

"Evenin', yer majesty," Slisk said, bowing her head slightly from where she sat. "Is th' treaty ready fer me teh sign?"

"Har har!" Bloodfur chuckled, setting his cup of wine down on the table. "Right t' the point, eh? Yes, 'ere it is." Snapping his claws, Bloodfur waited as Bruggor pulled out the sheet of paper and two quills and set it down in front of Slisk.

Slisk took a moment to scan the treaty to make sure that there was no 'fishy business'. "So this is basically just supposed teh mean that I submit teh yer rule while I'm on Terramort, correct?"

"Aye, basically," Bloodfur replied, smiling. "It's just that whoever doesn't sign doesn't get my protection, which, as y' probably already know, means that y' 'n' yer ship are fair game teh whoever wants teh steal it from you. Of course, that means that I get a fourth of yer cargo."

"Hmm… I think they would 'ave a slight problem if they thought they could jus' steal my ship." Slisk said grimly. "I guess a fourth isn't that much anyway considering I wouldn't 'ave t' worry about other raiders." Giving the paper in her paw one last glance, she set it down and picked up the quill and scratched down her signature. "There," she said, passing it to Bloodfur. "Are y' satisfied, yer majesty?"

"I am." After writing down his own name on it, Bloodfur passed the treaty to Bruggor. "Now, since that's taken care of…" Bloodfur signaled for a few of the nearby slaves and servants to bring in the trolleys of food and drinks.

Seaweed grog, damson wine, and many other types of drinks were presented. Roasted gull, pheasant, and goose were served as the main course, along with cooked fish. A few tables were lucky to also have some bowls of fruit. Bloodfur's rule had brought a lot of wealth to the corsair world, so only the best of the best was served.

Spitting out small pieces of fat, Bloodfur chomped down a finely cooked piece of goose. "So," he asked Slisk, taking another bite out of his food, "'ow do yew like th' food?"

Slisk had a hard time keeping her face from frowning at the sight of Bloodfur munching his food messily and throwing discarded fish bones off to the side when he was finished with them.

"I'm…impressed at 'ow much tasty vittles y' got," she said as she picked at the food on her plate with a fork. "This is some prime stuff."

"Well if y' like it so much why don't y' 'ave some more? 'Ere," Bloodfur grabbed a hunk of fish and plopped it in front of her.

"No, no, I wouldn't want teh overdo yer generosity…" the female captain protested.

"Nonsense!" Grabbing a flask of damson wine, Bloodfur leaned over and poured some more into her cup. He gave a grunt of surprise as he tipped her cup over, spilling the dark red liquid all over Slisk's lap.

"What th'–!" Pushing her chair back, Slisk snatched a napkin from Raggar and tried to dry her clothes with it.

"Oops." Bloodfur grinned, slapping her on the shoulder. "Sorry there, mate! I can be a clumsy fool sometimes."

Slisk looked like she was about to snarl at the king with rage for a second, but luckily, she managed to calm her temper down and replied somewhat calmly. "That's okay, yer majesty. I'm _sure_ it was an accident."

"Well thankee." Bloodfur wiped one of his paws clean and reached for another fish. With the other paw, he carefully poured himself a goblet of wine.

The dinner continued on like usual. All of the creatures had noticeably calmed down and were enjoying themselves. Regardless if they were a subject of the king or a simple deckhand from Slisk's crew.

Suddenly, there were loud shouts of alarm from just outside the hall. Bloodfur and every other beast stopped eating and talking and looked over at the doors, trying to see what was causing all of the commotion.

There was the sound of feet pattering as a rat guard practically flew through the door and ran up to where Bloodfur was sitting.

"Sire, the Queen is dead!"

Bloodfur almost fell out of his chair with shock. Recovering his senses, the large rat grabbed his large red axe that he always kept close at paw and leapt onto his footclaws. "Whadda mean 'she's dead'!? What 'appened? Where is she?"

The rat guard gurgled as Bloodfur walked up to him and grabbed his neck with both claws.

"Gah-uh! W-w-we found her with a knife wound in her back, sire!" the unfortunate rat stammered, trying to break the king's none-too-gently grasp. "Th' others are bringin' her in!"

The rat's words were proved true as four rat guards also entered, carrying a limp form wrapped in a sheet.

Throwing the rat guard off to the side, Bloodfur clenched his axe handle and grimly walked over to the dead body of Gabriella. All of the vermin and corsairs had grouped around what had used to be their queen. They all slowly backed away to let King Bloodfur pass between them.

The rat king nodded his head and the guards unfolded the blanket covering the queen. Gabriella's face was frozen with a slightly puzzled expression, almost like she herself, was surprised that she was dead.

Bloodfur bent down and caressed his former wife's face gently with a paw. As he stood up, gripping his red axe with furious paws until his knuckles showed white, all the other creatures took a small step back. The remained silent as the king of Terramort began to speak with a dangerously calm voice.

"I don't know who killed yew, Gabriella, but I promise: I will not tolerate anybeast assassinating my wife. Until further notice, all ships are ordered teh stay in dock, an' nobeast is teh leave this island until Gabriella's murderers 'ave been caught an' been…" Bloodfur paused as he pondered the right word, "…punished severely."

The assembled vermin glanced at each other nervously. The searat king's "punishments" were infamous through the eastern seas. It was woe to the beast that had any part in the queen's murder.


	37. Chapter 36

**Author note:**

 **Waycaster: Yeah, hopefully Broge isn't on the same page as that villainous vole! XD That would indeed by bad if Abe blew his cover. (It was rather a close thing as it was…) Ah, you might be right. Tragg and Flugg – With Dunagan in tow :-P – might just make it to Terramort in time. I hope I handled Igeyorhm's personality okay. Have a terrific day!**

 **The Grey Coincidence: What an intriguing theory Grey…** _ **Is**_ **Slisk really behind the murder? I gotta agree with you that that would be an interesting twist to be sure! To be honest, I'm rather proud that I managed to catch you off guard with Gabriella's murder. (I feel like you guess most of my plot twists and such before they happen. You should be a detective. XD) Yes, Broge is an informant. I hope that that part all played out like I hoped because I didn't want any of my readers to put him in the same boat as Druwp from 'Martin the Warrior'. Aye! I can't wait to see what Bloodfur will do when he finds out either! *Begins to cackle and rub hands together* Mwhahaha! Anyways, thanks for both of the reviews!**

 **P.S. Oh. Whoops, my bad. Shortlegs is a small weasel.**

 **Abrahem: Yes, I think one of the main reasons why I had Gabriella's death off page was because I still might have some (Spoiler) different theories on how she died. You know, I don't think I've ever *actually* played an electric dart machine but we had a *Cough* old fashioned one *Cough* that was a lot of fun! Have a great day!**

 **Shellypoo: Thank you!**

 **Firestar the Warrior: That's true, Bloodfur could go both ways; he could become over protective (Like The Grey Coincidence said) or he could become distant. I guess we shall see!**

 **JP fanfic: I'm glad you liked the moles! And as for the escape plan… hopefully they shall escape, but with me writing, who knows?... *Winks***

 **Happy reading to you all!**

000000000000000

 **MOSSFLOWER WOODS**

The grey clouds that had brought rain to Redwall Abbey were just to the west of Sebias and his companions. The sun had risen and bird song was heard throughout the forest as Sebias yawned and sat up. He had forgotten everything about his dream about Martin the Warrior.

"Ooh!" Arching his aching muscles slowly, he cracked his back. "Goodness! I must've been sleepin' on every rock in Mossflower!"

"I think you missed a few because I feel like I was laying on a dozen of those painfully sharp things," Sam's voice said groggily from where he lay.

Sebias yawned one more time and slowly stood up, aware of the sore muscles.

"Ah," Kirk commented from where he stood cooking over a small campfire, "first timers to the great outdoors, eh?"

"Yeah…" Sebias rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "You could say that. What ya cookin'?"

"Vittles of course," Kirk smirked.

"Obviously, I meant what _kind_ of vittles?"

"Ah," Standing back from the pan so that Sebias could see Kirk said, "It's just something that I threw together with what we had. I'm…actually not sure what it's called."

"Just call it mush," Tharko the otter called out from where he sat, watching guard.

"Well if you don't like my cookin', you should make it yourself next time if you're such a master chef!"

Tharko grinned. "Maybe I will."

Kirk glanced over to his pack and sighed, looking up at Sebias and Sam. "Our supplies are rather pathetic really. That food there is almost all we have left." He pointed to the big simmering black pot. "It's a pity that Redwall is so far away from here. I hear you Redwallers are really good at cooking feasts."

"Ah, you 'ave no idea!" Sebias sighed, closing his eyes as he thought about Friar Peter's cooking. "Though, Redwall isn't _that_ far away."

"Yeah," Sam agreed, pointing in the general direction where the abbey was. "It should be only about a day's journey from here."

The smell of the mushy concoction cooking woke up Bergen and Gerardo. After the small rat and mouse had rubbed the sleep from their eyes, Bergen slinked off into the woods while Gerardo began to fold the blankets.

"Hey," Gerardo waved a paw for Sebias and Sam to come over. "Could you both help me with these blankets?"

"Okay."

Once they had come over, Gerardo whispered into Sebias' ear, "So what's the plan? Could these three creatures be the reason that Martin the Warrior sent us out here?"

Sam grabbed an end to the blanket. "Maybe we're supposed to take them back to Redwall with us?"

"I don't know…" Something flickered in the back of Sebias' memory when Gerardo mentioned Martin the Warrior. The young otter shrugged it off. "Hmm… I wonder how th' abbot would feel about letting vermin in Redwall Abbey. I mean, Kirk doesn't seem like a bad chap. Bergen on th' other paw, he…Hmm…I'm not sure… he seems like he could be hidin' somethin'…" Sebias' voice trailed off.

"I think we should just ask 'em." Sam said, tossing his blanket back into his bag. "After all, it wouldn't hurt anythin'. Maybe they won't even want to come anyway."

"Good idea," Sebias agreed, "Gerardo, y' can ask 'em."

"Me? No, no, no. I think you should ask. _You're_ the one who had the dream after all."

"But–"

"Oh for Fate's sake," Sam said, plopping his bag on the ground. "I'll ask them." As he walked over to where Kirk and Bergen were talking by the fire, the young squirrel mumbled under his breath. "Sheesh, if you want somethin' done right, you gotta do it yourself."

Sebias and Gerardo swiftly finished stuffing the blankets back into their packs and ran after Sam.

"You looked like you were doing quite the conspiring over there." Kirk chuckled gruffly, spooning their breakfast into small wooden bowls. "I'm assuming we probably had something to do with what you were talking about, yes?"

 _Boy! He's got big ears!_ Sebias thought. _Either that or he's a really good at guessing things._

Sam accepted the bowl of gruel as Kirk handed it to him. "Uh, thanks. Anyways, yes, you're right, we were tryin' to figure out what we should all do next. We were probably going to head back to Redwall since," –The squirrel shot Sebias a glance– "we're not sure if we found what we were lookin' for."

"What _are_ yew lookin' fer?" Tharko asked, blowing on his spoon as he took a bite.

Sam and Gerardo looked at Sebias. The otter sighed and looked down at his paws. "Well…it's kinda 'ard t' explain really… we were, er… sent on a quest by our abbey's founder t' find…um, somethin'…"

Tharko looked up from his bowl of soup and shared a confused glance with Kirk.

"That's…um, really interesting…" Kirk scratched his chin awkwardly.

"It's not like it sounds. I mean…" Sebias stopped. "Okay, yes, it sounds confusin' but you asked us why we were 'ere so that's th' truth." Nudging Sam, he asked, "Do y' still wanna ask 'em, or should I?"

Sam coughed and glared at all of them. "Yes, I _was_ until I was interrupted. Anyways, would you three–"

"What th' fur!" Tharko leapt up as he spilled some of the hot mush on his lap. "That stuff's hot!" Wiping the mess off with a cloth, he sat down with a sigh. "Boy, I don't know what's in this, but whatever it is, it sure – Oh, were you sayin' something, Sam?"

Sam shot him a slightly annoyed glare and cleared his throat. "Yes _._ Now, we were wondering if…" he paused. "…you wanted to come back to Redwall with us?"

Tharko slapped his knee. "Why of course we–Oof!"

Kirk had nudged the scarred otter in the stomach sharply. " _Ah hem!_ I think what Tharko _meant_ to say was that if it wouldn't be too much trouble…"

"Oh course! We'd love to have you." Gerardo smiled. "Just make sure that…" He glanced toward the clump of trees where Bergen had disappeared. "…nothing goes missing from our kitchens. I remember stealing a blueberry tart once and I figured out the hard way that Friar Peter is very fast on his footpaws…"

"Eh, I'll keep an eye one him." Kirk smirked slightly. "Like usual."

Sebias nodded his head and, setting down his empty bowl, stood up. "Once we're packed up an' finish eatin' we should probably get a move on. I don't wanna spend another night out 'ere."

"I agree with you on that!" Sam quickly agreed, rubbing his back with both of his paws. "I never knew camping was so…hard."

Kirk's mouth grinned slightly and Tharko let out a short bark of laughter.

"You'll get used t' it," Tharko said, clapping Sam on the back.

"Ouch! Take it easy there, will ya. I've got a delicate back." Sam yelped, "And yeah, Kirk said we'd get used to it too…"

"Well, what can I say?" Tharko said, his face serious. "Kirk probably stole that wise saying from me. Regardless, it's true."

"Oh, ho, ho," Kirk interrupted, pretending to grab for his broadsword. "Now hold on for a minute there! ' _I_ stole that saying from _you'_? I don't think so."

Before Tharko attempted a good reply, the scarred otter felt a paw tap him from behind. Turning, he saw Bergen standing quietly behind him. None of them had noticed him slip back into the camp.

"Are we going t' leave yet?" Bergen asked, peeking over at Sebias, Sam, and Gerardo with nervous eyes.

Tharko, thankful that his conversation with Kirk had been interrupted, nodded his head wisely. "Yes. I believe we should start getting ready t' go, as long as that's alright with you three." He aimed the last part to the Redwall trio.

"That's fine by us!" Sebias answered for them.

Once they had put out the small fire, the six young creatures packed their things and set off, hoping to reach Redwall before the rain clouds on the horizon hit them.

000000000000000

 **REDWALL ABBEY**

By lunchtime the rain had died down somewhat, though the grey clouds still hung above the abbey like a bringer doom.

For what felt like the hundredth time in the last few days, the abbey was surprised by yet another development; Abbot Daniel was ill.

The Abbot had at first brushed it off his illness as nothing, even though the others were rather concerned when they heard him coughing. But when he didn't show up to meet with King Ironspear, Mother Mira and Brother Michael went up to his room to get him. They were shocked to find him lying flat face down on the floor, unconscious.

The news spread like wildfire. Who now would continue the negotiations with King Ironspear and his hamsters? Was the illness serious? Why wouldn't the other abbey leaders tell them anything? Rumors and theories were growing bigger and bigger. Some of the woodlanders decided they were going to get answers and stormed off to the infirmary where the sick abbot currently was being treated.

"Enough! I already told you, if you all keep up this racket you'll only make things worse!"

Mother Mira was standing in front of the Infirmary door with her massive arms crossed. Nobeast was willing to go toe to toe with a badger, so they huddled in circle around her and protested.

"We have a right to see our Abbot!" a squirrel barked out from the back, "Let us in!"

"Aye!"

"Let us in!"

"We want t' see Father Daniel!"

"I told you you'll all get to see him once we figure out what's wrong with him!" Mira growled. The female badger was trying her best to remain calm, but it wasn't easy.

Things started to get even worse as one of the younger voles, a female named Volerra, started a chant that was picked up by the other young ones. They were quickly joined by the older Redwallers as well.

"We want our Abbot!"

"We want our Abbot!"

"We want our Abbot!"

Mother Mira rolled her eyes. Since the Redwallers weren't being reasonable she'd just ignore them completely. She went back into the Infirmary and closed the door behind her and locked it.

The small room was nearly empty. Brother Michael had suggested not using the main part of the infirmary since it was a smaller room it would be easier to keep unwanted creatures out.

Daniel was lying on a bed, his brow covered with sweat. Sister Julia, the infirmary keeper, was patting his forehead with a cool wet cloth. The mouse sister and Michael glanced over at Mother Mira as she clomped over.

"Good gracious me," Mira exclaimed as she sat down on one of the empty beds. "I never knew until now that our fellow abbey-dwellers were so feather-brained!"

Michael looked over at the door as he listened to the sound of the creatures chanting for their abbot.

"They're just concerned for Father Daniel, that's all" the squirrel said, "Hopefully they'll calm down if – I mean, _once_ Daniel gets better."

"Dear me," Sister Julia said, fiddling with a needle. "I do hope Father Abbot gets better soon! Now who's going to make sure that that King Ironspear and his creatures don't do anything foolish with that massive army of his?"

"Hmm…" Brother Michael shot a glance over to Mother Mira and folded his paws in his habit sleeves. "Speaking of the fellow, one of us should probably stay with him, at least, until Daniel gets well."

"You know, there is actually something that I've been thinking about…" Sister Julia stood up and began to pace the stone floor, her long habit making a swishing sound. "…Do…do you think that that wildcat or his hamsters might've done this?" She gestured to the feverish looking abbot. "I mean, they probably wouldn't have done it on purpose, but I've checked all the records and I couldn't find a trace of this sickness anywhere. Do you think some of their troops had been sick with it and brought it from Southsward with them?"

Mother Mira clenched her teeth and cracked her knuckles. "They had better _not_ be responsible for this, or I'll personally grab them all by the scruff of their necks and throw them out so fast it'll make their heads spin!"

"Now, now, Mother Mira, let's be reasonable." Brother Michael walked over and sat down by the badger, patting her arm with his paw. "I don't think that Abbot Daniel would want us to go around blaming everybeast in Redwall. Why don't" – the squirrel recorder suddenly broke off and looked toward the door. He had just noticed that the chanting outside had died down, replaced by the sounds of loud whispering and scuffling.

"I wonder why they stopped their racket." Mother Mira said, echoing Michael's thoughts. "Did they finally grow some sense?"

Mira and Michael, along with a very curious Sister Julia, walked over across the room and slowly creaked open the door and popped their heads out. They were surprised to see their fellow Redwallers uneasily scooting back as they let the tall figure of Ironspear walk through the crowd.

The wildcat was accompanied by Scarnose and Ambassador Grank. Both of the hamsters were finely dressed. They marched on either side of the Grey Warlord, smiling and nodding politely as they walked through the woodlanders.

"Excuse us please."

"Thank you kindly, sirs. We just need to get through for a second."

"Pardon us."

When they finally reached the door, the Redwallers once again crowded around them, waiting to see what the king and his beasts wanted.

"May I see your abbot?" Ironspear asked, his grey-furred face showing genuine concern. "When I heard that he was sick I hoped that I would be able to help in some way in repayment for his kindness."

Brother Michael nudged Mira as she huffed silently and narrowed her eyes with suspicious.

"I think it would be…alright." Brother Michael looked back at the bed Abbot Daniel was lying on. "He's still unconscious though, so you will only be able to stay for a short while."

Entering the room, Ironspear hung his cloak on a peg on the wall and he, along with the two hamsters, tiptoed over to where Daniel slept in a feverish sleep.

"Hmm… he doesn't look too good, does he?" Before anybeast could object, the warlord leaned forward and felt the mouse's pulse. "His breathing doesn't seem right. It looks like he has a fever but at the same time," He bent down even more, "I see signs that it might be more than that."

"Have you…ever seen this kind of sickness before?" Sister Julia asked.

Ironspear gazed at her with his green eyes. "I'm not the best of healers. But I do believe I've heard of this kind of ailment before. I might even know somebeast who might be able to help."

"Really?" Brother Michael's eyes widened with hope. "Do – do you really think that this creature you know might be able to heal him? Where is he?"

" _She,_ " Ironspear corrected, smiling. "As for where she is; I deployed her along with my troops just outside your walls. I was going to bring her but…"

"But what, your majesty," Michael asked.

"Well…" Glancing from Mira to Michael, the warlord replied somewhat reluctantly, "I thought I'd leave her because she is, in fact, a vixen. And everybeast knows that you here at Redwall have had a long history with foxes and other vermin."

Michael scratched his chin awkwardly. "Well…yes, that's partly true, I guess. I mean, there was the time that Slagar and his mother almost betrayed us to Cluny the Scourge in the time of Matthias… and there was also the time when we were attacked by the Marlfoxes…" Michael decided that this wasn't a good place to take the conversation. "But we still try our best to give them the benefit of the doubt, as long as they are peaceful creatures, are unarmed, and aren't apart of a horde. That goes for all vermin."

"Hmm… Vermin like me?" The wildcat raised an eyebrow briefly. As Michael opened his mouth to reply, Ironspear waved a dismissive paw. "I think we're getting a little sidetracked. Should I send for my healer? I'm sure that she would be happy to prove her good will by helping your leader in any way possible."

"If you think she can heal Daniel. Then please."

"Good. I'll send for her right away." Turning to Scarnose, the warlord ordered crisply, "Go tell Sellena that she is to come right away."

"Will do, your majesty," And with that, the hamster ran off to do his master's bidding.


	38. Chapter 37

**Author note:**

 **Seakard: I have to admit, it does get a little hard to make sure everything ties together with the plot. But so far, it hasn't been *too* incredibly hard, at least, not yet. Part III is going to be interesting to write. :-P**

 **Waycaster: Yes. I should really try to squish in some chapters of Sam and Gerardo perspectives. Thing is, there are already a few characters in the Redwall chapters that need further development. King Ironspear, (Though he can *technically* be excused as a shady character. :-P) Tharko, Kirk, Bergen…etc… Ah, Sellena might know of his arrival! Good guess! We shall see though…**

 **Firestar the warrior: I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about. *Whistles and glances skyward innocently* And yes, I think the rest of the Redwallers are hoping for the same thing. Hopefully he gets better.**

 **The Grey Coincidence: Yes, I love it when master manipulators don't even realize they're being manipulated, in other words; Broge playing Shortlegs like a fiddle. XD**

 **You've got me chuckling just thinking about the trio eating food and then, suddenly, the ghost of Martin appears dramatically and slaps their greedy paws with a ladle. "Put that food down! Did you even** _ **CHECK**_ **their left paws for the mark?" XD**

 **As for serving the Taggerung as a side dish… they might be doing that indeed. We shall see though. We don't even know what The Grey Warlord wants with him anyway yet so… we shall see. Ah, yes, Bergen has indeed been a *fun* character to write. I won't give spoilers about what his role will be, but it has something to do with – BEEEEPPP! (Spoiler ;-D)**

 **And yet, another great theory to add to the pile.** **You say this is a wild guess, but I think you're right when you also say that he is a wild cat. We shall see if the theory is correct in time.**

 **Abrahem: Well…to be honest, one of the reasons that it wasn't a long and dangerous quest to find them is because… (Spoilery reasons) and also, it would make** _ **The Grey Warlord**_ **way longer. XD I hope you like the redwallers' reactions!**

 **JP fanfic: Why thank you!** **I had given his intro chapter a lot of foreshadowing so I thought I had better put a lot of work into it. It was really cool to write since it was all my invention.**

00000000000000

 **REDWALL ABBEY**

It didn't take long for Ironspear's messenger to fetch Sellena the healer. There had been a slight hassle at the gate coming back in, but after convincing the guards that it was for the good of their abbot, they had gotten through, along with escorts for "protection".

Mother Mira and Brother Michael looked over at the door eagerly as Scarnose knocked loudly.

"I've brought Sellena as ordered, could you open up."

Shuffling over, Brother Michael opened the door and let them both in.

The young red-furred vixen carried her satchel of herbs slung over her shoulder. Wasting no time, she walked over to Abbot Daniel and put a paw on his sweating forehead. After giving him another intense glance, she inspected him a little more and began digging around in her satchel.

"So…You're the healer that Ironspear was talking about?" Michael said. The squirrel had been a little surprised that the wildcat warlord would recommend a creature so young but decided not to comment about that.

Sellena practically ignored Brother Michael's question for a few seconds as she continued rummaging through her bag.

"Yes I am." Sellena finally said as she pulled out a few leaves and a small glass bottle from her bag, she set them on a nearby table.

Sister Julia leaned over and glanced at the items eagerly, curiosity shining in the infirmary aide's eyes.

"I've never seen those before… Where did you get them?"

"I brought some of them with me from Southsward, and some I found on our way here," Sellena replied as she rubbed some of the leaves together in her paw and squeezed the juice out of them into a small bowl.

Her sharp eyes darted to all of the creatures in the room. "Unless you are a healer or doctor of some sort could you kindly leave? I like working in complete silence."

"Now hold on there," Mother Mira said in her typical blunt manner, her eyebrows furrowing. "You could be poisoning him for all we know." She shook her head. "I'm sorry but we hardly know you. You can't just expect us to let you just waltz right in and start making demands?"

Sellena continued opening the lid on her small bottle from her satchel and didn't even bother to glance at Mira, much to the female badger's annoyance.

"I think that you can trust me, since it would be quite obvious that if I did, indeed, poison your friend that you all wouldn't let me leave this place unpunished. You can trust my own survival instincts if you don't trust me as an ally yet."

King Ironspear straightened up, towering over all in the room, with the exception of Mira. "And let's not forget that Sellena is under my protection and she'll never do anything foolish unless she risks suffering my wrath. But for now, let's do what she says. I'm sure it's for the good of your abbot."

After Brother Michael had weighed the options, he said, "I think I should go along with Ambassador Grank and King Ironspear. Mother Mira, if you wish, I think you should stay and…" he shot the badger a knowing glance, "see if you can help them in any way. Would that be alright, Sellena?"

After the vixen gave her approval, the other creatures left Daniel in the care of the young fox and Sister Julia, along with a very watchful Mother Mira.

Once they had left the infirmary room, they were quickly flooded with questions from the other Redwallers and the Guosim shrews that had been waiting in the hallway.

"I'm a little late," Log-a-log told Michael once they had come out. The shrew was wringing his paws worriedly. "I was guardin' th' gates so I didn't hear 'bout Daniel being sick 'till that hamster came to fetch that vermin healer. Is Daniel gonna be alright?"

All of the other creatures, or at least, those that heard the shrew's question, fell silent as they waited to hear Michael's answer.

"Abbot Daniel is…" The squirrel stopped as he struggled to find the right words. He couldn't tell them the abbot was getting better because…well…he wasn't. But he couldn't tell them that there could be a chance that their abbey's beloved ruler could die either. Finally, he decided to take a different approach. "We're doing everything possible. Don't worry. Sister Julia and Mother Mira will let us know if something happens…for better or for worse."

To the rest of the beasts, Michael said loudly, "King Ironspear's healer says that she works better when things are completely silent. You'd be doing your abbot a favor if you went back down to either Cavern Hole to wait, or to maybe continue your chores outside in the gardens. We'll also need volunteers to take care of the dibbuns while Mira is…occupied." It had been tempting to say that she was in fact _guarding_ Daniel, but that would just make things worse all around.

"Sellena is a great healer," Ironspear added, his commanding presence drawing their attention. "I'd trust her with my life. Actually, I have! Your abbot is in good paws."

After a bit of quiet murmuring, the woodlanders slowly nodded their heads and followed Ironspear, Log-a-log, and Michael as they led them back to Cavern Hole.

The sounds of quiet droplets quietly hitting the windows was heard as, once again, the rain resumed its steady downpour.

000000000000000

 **MOSSFLOWER WOODS**

"I feel like we should've reached the abbey by now," Gerardo complained to Sebias as they and the others all paused to take a sip from their flasks or bottles.

They had been traveling since morning. When Sebias, Gerardo, and Sam had left Redwall on their quest, none of them had really thought about trying to track their way back...until now. After their run-in with the vermin robber band, and the uncomfortable night spent with barely any sleep, the trio decided that Martin the Warrior must have either meant for them to find Tharko, Bergen, and Kirk, or they must've gotten the message wrong. They couldn't think of any other reason, no matter how hard they racked their brains.

"Do you think we're going the right way?" Gerardo asked again.

Sebias nodded his head slowly. "I…think so. I mean…how hard is it t' miss a huge place like Redwall?"

Skipper had taken Sebias on a couple fishing trips whenever he and the other otters in the tribe went traveling. Unfortunately, that now meant that the others assumed that Sebias would know Mossflower Woods like the back of his paw. If not better!

Sam was sprawled out with his arms wide like an eagle on the mossy forest floor as he rested. Tharko sat underneath an elm tree with his eyes closed while Kirk stood silently, sharpening his razor-edged broadsword blade with a stone. Bergen was nowhere to be seen. Sebias assumed he had found a nice dark hole to hide in while he rested.

"Why doesn't Bergen ever stay in plain sight?" Sebias asked Kirk, glancing around at the surrounding trees. "I don't mean t' sound rude, but it's kinda weird."

Kirk made a gesture with his paws that seemed to indicate that he wasn't sure why either. "I think he might like the solitude," he said after a while.

"So, Kirk…" Sebias asked slowly, careful that he wasn't treading in dangerous waters, "where y' from?"

The black fox looked at his broadsword blade. "I'd rather not talk about it." Picking up his pack, he said briskly, "I think we should go. Those rain clouds are getting closer."

000000000000000

After another hour of tramping through the forest, it began to sprinkle with rain. Patience was growing short as one bad thing after another happened.

"Ouch!" Gerardo hopped about on one foot. "I stepped on another one of those blasted rocks! Not only that, but I'm soaked to the bone. Should we stop?"

"What? A little rain never hurt anybeast." Tharko grinned. He and Sebias were both otters so they felt as at home with the wet rain as a fish to water.

"Well I heard that if y' stay in the rain too long then yer fur will fall off." Bergen commented. The young rat was holding a large leaf over his head, trying desperately to keep dry … it wasn't exactly working very well.

"That's just because you rats are scared of taking baths." Kirk huffed.

"And what's wrong 'bout being afraid of baths, eh? My mother's cousin said she knew a friend who had seen a beast that been th' brother of a poor creature that 'ad shriveled up 'n' died because he 'ad been in th' water fer too long."

Kirk rolled his eyes. "Superstitious old wife's-tales."

"'Ey! My mother wasn't superstitious!"

"You both might want t' stay quiet," Tharko interrupted. "We wouldn't want the other abbey-dwellers to think we were a bunch of cacklers."

"Isn't that what you are?" Sam asked under his breath from where he walked behind the two arguing young vermin.

Kirk shot him an amused glance as he held a paw over his eyes to keep the rain out. "I heard that!"

"Well good for you." Sam was normally a very cheerful fellow, but he was soaked, miserable, and once again, hungry. He needed something, or somebeast, to take his frustration out on. "Not everyone has big ears like you."

"Excuse me?" Kirk stopped dead in his tracks and turned around. "Did you just insult me, squirrel?"

Sam instantly regretted making the comment. However, pride wasn't going to let him back down. "It depends on how you want to take it, Kirk. I was just complimenting on your hearing skills."

Kirk narrowed his eyes. Most creatures would've taken that as a sign to back down, but Sam wasn't like most creatures.

"Goodness! Can't a beast ever talk to himself without some other fellow listening in on him? I mean, you shouldn't be so touchy –"

The others all glanced at each other uneasily as Kirk's fur began to bristle and the squirrel didn't stop chattering.

Gerardo quickly stepped in between them as he tried to calm them down before the situation got out of paw. "Guys, why don't we just forget about this? It's not a big deal."

Sam and Kirk both looked at each other.

"Fine…"

"I guess."

Kirk nodded his head in agreement and continued walking forward, thinking that the matter had ended. He turned suddenly as the back of his head was suddenly hit by a pawful of mud. He glared at Sam and yelled. "What was that for?"

Not even bothering to listen to the squirrel's defense, the black fox reached down and scooped up a clod of slimy earth from a puddle and hurled it straight at Sam, hitting the squirrel on his jacket. Chaos struck.

Tharko yelled "Mud fight!" and mud-balls began flying through the air along with the rain. Sam climbed up a tree with all the speed he could muster, and there he stayed, dodging incoming missiles from bellow.

Sebias and Gerardo stood side by side and tried their best to give back throws as good as they got.

"Get Kirk," Sebias yelled, leaning over to scoop up more mud. He jumped back up as one of the dirt missiles hit him square on the rudder. "Who threw that?"

Tharko was practically falling over with laughter from his position behind a bush. "Hahaha! That was a pefect shot! Hehehe – Hey!"

Sebias had ran over and, crashing through the bush, leapt on Tharko. The two otters rolled around on the wet muddy ground as they wrestled.

Kirk had finally managed to land another hit on Sam, and the squirrel, realizing that he had absolutely no access to ammunition in the tree, jumped back down from his branch and plopped down on the ground, trying to wiggle out of the line of fire as he scooped up his own clumps of mud.

Sam looked back up for one second to aim at Kirk and was hit on the top of his head.

"Haha! Got'ya!" Kirk called, his normally serious face plastered with a huge grin.

The rain continued to pour down as the young creatures continued their playful fighting. It wasn't until almost all of them were completely covered in mud that they stopped. Panting and laughing as they tried to wipe the gooey mess off themselves.

"I – hehe – sure got you good, eh Sebias?" Tharko smiled as he wiped the mud out of his ear. "I mean, you have to admit that that was pretty great shot since I was all the way across the clearin' when I got ya."

"Okay, okay," Sebias admitted, "I agree that that was a good shot, but just wait 'till next time…"

"Yeah! We should do this again!" Sam was practically bouncing up and down with the idea. "Maybe we could ask Abbot Daniel if we could make mud fighting an official Redwall sport!"

"Uh, let's not," Gerardo said as he rubbed his dirty face on a relatively clean part of his tunic.

"But it was fun!" Sam glanced over at Kirk and Tharko and winked as he added, "Especially since we won. Right, guys?"

"Ha! In your dreams, fuzz-face!" Tharko exclaimed.

"Yeah, I don't think so, woodlander. We tied, fair and square." Kirk sat down on a rock and sighed contentedly. "Aaaah… that was exhausting."

They all looked over as Bergen slid back into view. The rat looked like he could barely keep himself from bursting out with laughter as he looked at his mud-caked companions. "I found a stream over there." He pointed a claw behind him. "When th' fight started I thought yew'd want to wash up when yew were done so I…scampered off. I'm glad I did."

"So that's where you were." Tharko said, "You really should have stayed. It was surprisingly pretty fun! We had a mud fight." He winked at Sam and Kirk. "Now I wish that _I_ had come up with the idea instead of you two nutcases."

"But they didn't start it." Bergen said, his smile growing bigger.

Sebias, Gerardo, Sam, Tharko, and Kirk all stopped what they were doing and slowly turned to look at the rat.

"What?" Gerardo raised an eyebrow.

"I was th' one who through th' mud at Kirk!" Bergen's smile turned into a chuckle, which finally ended up with him slapping his knee as he cried tears of merriment.

The other young beasts all looked at each other and nodded. Scooping the leftover mud back into small balls they began to hurl them at Bergen.

The rat scampered off as he tried to dodge desperately. "Hey! Watch it! Okay, okay, I'm sorry! Sheesh!"

After they had promised that they wouldn't throw so much as a pinch of mud at him, Bergen came back and led them to the small trickling stream. The rain had stopped sprinkling, though the clouds still hung over them, promising to continue later.

After they had all washed off, Sebias suddenly remembered something. "Aha! I recognize this creek! It leads to the River Moss!"

"Yeah, so what? We don't live on the River Moss." Sam patted the left side of his head as he tried to shake the stream water out of his ear.

Sebias sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Look, I've been fishing at the River Moss since I was a dibbun. I could find my way back from there with my eyes closed!"

"Yes! That's what I wanted to hear!" Jumping back up, Sam said," Let's hurry up and follow this creek back to the main river! I can't wait to get home!" He looked around. "Tharko, I saw Kirk and Bergen both leave a second ago. Do you know where they are? We should probably go soon."

Tharko slung his large double-bladed axe back on his shoulders. "I think Kirk said he wanted to scout around a little bit. He said that he wanted to check something. I don't know where Bergen is."

"Right behind yew."

Tharko jumped with surprise and turned to see that Bergen was sitting silently right behind him.

"What have I told you about sneaking up on me like that?" The scarred otter asked.

"So I guess we just wait for Kirk to get back?" Sam asked, before the conversation could stray anywhere else.

"I guess so." Tharko shrugged. "Anybeast got a better idea?"

The group sat down once again. To pass up the time, Tharko suggested for them to make sure their weapons were all cleaned and sharpened. "If you take good care of your weapon," he had said, "it'll take good care of you."

Sebias eyelids felt as heavy as blocks of stone. They had been waiting for a while now and after that mud fight, he was tired. They all were. He leaned against the roots of a large, moss covered tree. _Ah, this feels pretty good. Maybe I'll just…take…a…quick…nap._ He yawned.

Just as he was beginning to feel the arms of sleep beginning to wrap him in its embrace he heard Sam, who was lying next to him say to Gerardo, "I'm sure excited to get home! Aren't you, Gerardo? I mean, I know that Martin the Warrior said he wanted us to find something important but…"

As he heard those words, Sebias smiled sleepily and turned onto his side. _Silly, Gerardo,_ he thought, _Martin didn't want us to find_ something _important_. _He wanted us to find somebeast with a mark on his paw…_

Sebias' mind suddenly clicked. How did he know that's what Martin had said? And then, he remembered everything. The young otter bolted up from where he lay. "I remember what Martin told me!" he shouted excitedly, surprising his companions. He started jumping around happily.

"Er, is he…alright?" Tharko leaned forward as he watched the leaping Redwall otter.

"Of course he is." Gerardo replied, shaking his head as if that was the most obvious thing in the world. "Um…Sebbie," He said as he continued watching Sebias clapping his paws and jumping around like a dibbun. "You are going to tell us what you're talking about, right?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm just so… Whoopee!"

"Yeah, maybe you had a point there, Tharko." Sam eyed Sebias with amusement. "Now seriously," Sam continued. "What do you remember, Seb?"

"I know why Martin th' Warrior sent us out here in th' first place!" Before Sebias could continue, he was interrupted by the sound of a shriek and creatures roaring out in anger from upstream.

Sebias quickly whipped his head around as he and the others tried to figure out where the sounds were coming from.

"Kirk must be in trouble!" Picking up his large axe, Tharko screeched out a battle cry and charged toward the sounds of the angry shouts. Sam and the others hastily grabbed their spears and other weapons as well and ran after him.

Tharko tore through the foliage, blazing a trail for the others. He crashed in between two bushes and leapt into a clearing.

 _I'd hate to be the creature in his way right now. He looks ready to strangle an adder!_ Sebias thought grimly to himself as he ducked under a branch and followed the scarred otter, along with the others.

He saw Kirk standing on the far end of the clearing with his back against a tree, holding his broadsword out with both paws. He was surrounded by a large group of creatures wearing cloaks and armed with spears.

"Back off, you scoundrels! I'm coming Kirk!" Tharko raised his axe. "AAARGGHH!"


	39. Chapter 38

**Author Note:**

 **Firestar the Warrior: Yes, hopefully Mother Mira will make sure that there's nothing fishy going on with Sellena. I doubt think the poor vixen would leave in one piece if she poisoned the abbot or anything like that. :-P I'm glad you liked the mudfight! And I agree! Bergen is an interesting chap for sure…**

 **Waycaster: Yeah, the Redwall chapter came first this time because I felt like there were a few things at the abbey that needed to get sped up. And of course, I was eager to finally bring Sellena back into the story.** **Seer stuff, eh? A possibility to be sure. Hopefully she can fly though, or she'd suffer the wrath of all of the Redwallers. :-P Ah, "** _ **it seems"**_ **he's in trouble. Well, you might be right. I guess we'll see pretty soon. Happy reading to you, my friend!**

 **Abrahem: Thank you!** **Lol. Yes, I guess the word is humanizing unless we started calling it creaturenizing. (At least when referring to Redwal of course. XD) I think one of the reasons I didn't have Sebias remember his dream right away was because I think, if my memory is correct, that there were at least a couple times when Martin the Warrior gave creatures dreams but they only remembered having them when he decided that it was the best time. *Shrugs* I wasn't sure why he did it like that, but who am I to question the Warrior Mouse of Redwall. XD**

 **Ah, so you had started** _ **The Taggerung.**_ **Good for you, mate! That kinda sucks that you were so close to getting all of the books but then they had given them away. :'( Oh well, at least they're going to a worthy cause.** **You should keep searching for them! I hope you like them as much as I do!**

 **Radio Free Death: Thanks for the tips!**

 **The Grey Coincidence: I hope I got the shifting tones alright for that chapter. Like you said, it went from serious, to ego rubbing, to…MUDFIGHT! Bergen is so fun to write since, I basically just have him skulk around and act mysterious but randomly poke his head in every now and then, and once he does; Presto, we've got us a mudfight! XD You're right, Sellena hasn't won any prizes yet at diplomacy. XD But at least she can heal mysterious illnesses! …*Gulp*…Right? ;-)**

 **Thanks! The whole dream thing was an interesting thing for me to write. I originally was going to have him wake up and remember the dream right away, but at the time, I decided to wait. Like you said, lots of people (and otters. :-P) forget their dreams for a while and then they might remember sometime later. (I know I do at least with a few of my dreams.) And also for reasons that I explained above. (This author note is already huge):-P Thanks a lot for your review, mate!**

 **JP fanfic: "This day could not get any worse./ Could this get any worse." This, honestly, was probably my second favorite part when I was writing that chapter. (My first favorite part was Flugg crashing around in the tunnel. XD) Hopefully that tinderbox will help get him out of this mess. XD**

 **. 15: Why thank you! I'm glad you're enjoying it so far! Happy reading to you!**

000000000000000

 **MOSSFLOWER**

The tall cloaked creatures that were surrounding Kirk pointed their javelins at him as the fox tried to dart through a gap in their circle.

When they saw Tharko charging toward them, one of the mysterious beast managed to intercept Tharko before he reached Kirk. Tharko swung his double-bladed axe at the mysterious creature's head and the beast only just managed to duck.

"'Ey there, mate! Watch it!"

The hood on the stranger's cloak had fallen off to reveal the face of Skipper Wildstream. The otter chieftain carried a javelin but only held it at ready so that his head wouldn't be removed from his shoulders by Tharko's wild axe swings.

"Tharko, wait! We know him!" Sebias ran forward and grabbed Tharko by the shoulders.

The scarred otter looked at Sebias then back at Skipper.

"Why do they have Kirk surrounded then?" Tharko asked with hostility, still unconvinced.

"Is that Kirk?" Skipper asked curiously, pointing at the black fox with his javelin.

Tharko nodded.

Skipper slowly put down his javelin and held up his paws to show he was unarmed. "Look," he said, "we 'ad found this 'ere fox skulking behind a tree with a sword in his paws. We thought that he could be part of a larger gang or somethin' so we were going t' question 'im. We weren't going to harm him unless he tried attackin' us first."

Tharko slowly dropped his weapon as well.

"Okay then. You can let him go." Skipper nodded for his crew to leave Kirk be and turned to Sebias, Sam, and Gerardo with relief in his eyes. "Thank goodness, you're all alright!"

Taking a step forward, he wrapped Sebias in a bear hug.

"I –Oof– missed you too, Skipper!"

Just as it felt like his lungs were about to go _pop,_ Skipper set him down. Sam and Gerardo both glanced at each other and Sam held out a paw. "I think a paw-shake would–" Skipper grabbed the mouse and squirrel and gave them both a tight hug at the same time, much to their sore ribs' dismay.

Setting them down, Skipper looked at the trio and asked, "Where 'ave y' three been? An' 'ow did you end up with these…" he glanced over at Kirk and shot another glance at Bergen who ducked behind a tree when he saw that he was noticed. "…creatures…" he finished diplomatically.

"It's a long story." Sebias sighed. "Hopefully we can tell y' everything when we get back t' Redwall again, along with the others."

"Hold on. Is this fox an' that hidin' rat comin' t' th' abbey as well?"

"Yes." Sebias glanced over at Gerardo and Sam. The two of them both nodded.

"They saved my life," Gerardo said, his eyes never leaving Skipper's. "It's the least we could do to give them a few day's rest at Redwall."

"We'll keep an eye on them if you want." Sam grinned. "Though I hope we won't need to… I'd rather just worry about saying hello to the other Redwallers over a plate of – Mmm, Friar Peter's cooking."

Skipper glanced up at the grey clouds skyward and muttered something under his breath about "probably gonna regret this" and made up his mind. "Okay, fine. But until we're sure that they don't mean any 'arm, I'd like you t' stick close t' 'em. Just t' be safe."

Straightening up, he snapped out orders to the rest of his crew. "We're moving out! Tell th' others that we found 'em. Let's go back home."

00000000000000

 **REDWALL ABBEY**

Sellena the vixen had been quite busy. Her sleeves were rolled up and she would randomly hum to herself as she bustled around the Infirmary, grabbing specific herbs and medicines.

She would pass the ingredients to Sister Julia and instructed her to mash them up in a bowl, turning it all into liquid.

Sellena took the bowl back from Julia and, with the help of the sister, gently pried Daniel's mouth open and let the concoction slip through. Some of it trickled out of the sides of his mouth, but Sellena carefully wiped it off and proceeded to give him the last bit. Once she was done, she sighed and turned to put the now-empty bowl back on the table.

"Will he get better?" Mother Mira asked from where she had been standing behind the table, watching Sellena very closely.

"Time will tell." Sellena smiled. "Hopefully he'll –" she suddenly dropped the bowl onto the floor and held her head with both paws. The wooden bowl clacked against the stone floor unheeded as the vixen closed her eyes and fell against the table, mumbling under her breath.

"What is it?" Sister Julia asked, running over. "What's the matter?"

Mother Mira ran around to the other side of the table and lifted Sellena up and started to carry her to an empty bed. Before she reached it, however, the vixen's eyes snapped open and she said, "Put me down! I'm fine. Really I am."

Mira didn't looked completely convinced but set her down like she requested.

She straightened her tunic urgently. "I need to see my master. Give me a moment." Running out of the room she slammed the doorin her haste which made a loud _bang!_

"What was that all about?" Sister Julia asked, scratching her head.

"I don't know…but I intend to find out!" Brushing the mouse out of her way gently, the badger rushed out after Sellena.

"I'm going to make sure she doesn't get lost."

000000000000000

Sellena ran as fast as she could. The Taggerung was near! So, so near! She dodged around a mouse brother as he walked past, his arms full of books. He dropped one with surprise at her sudden appearance.

"Where is King Ironspear?" she asked him, picking up the fallen book and setting it back on the top of the pile. She repeated, "Where is he?"

"Er…he's in the Cavern Hole, marm."

"Where's that?"

The mouse pointed down the corridor where he had come from. "Go down the hall and take the second passage to the left. You'll see a big door. That'll lead you to it. But if I may ask, why are you in such a hurry? Is the abbot –"

"I'm sorry but I can't answer that now."

Once again, the vixen continued to run as fast as her paws could carry her. She followed the mouse's directions and took the second passage to the left. She was just about to reach out and grab the door handle when she heard a gruff shout.

"Wait, fox! Let me catch up!"

Sellena turned and saw Mother Mira. The badger's cheeks were red from running, and for a second, the vixen considered not waiting for the lumbering badger.

 _No,_ she thought, _if I did that, then it'd raise too many questions…_

She tapped her footpaw on the ground restlessly. "Yes, what did you want?"

"I want to know what's going on." Mira panted, drawing up to the smaller creature.

"Well, I'm sorry but I don't have time to explain. Now if you'll excuse me…"

Just as the vixen turned to the door to Cavern Hole, Mira clamped a massive paw down on her shoulder.

"Just hold on to your tunic there, fox. I said I want to know what's going on, an' I mean to find out, one way or another."

Sellena was beginning to panic inwardly. _The Taggerung is_ so _close! What if all the work we've done to find him is ruined by this lumbering oaf!?_ Trying her best to appear calm, Sellena nodded her head. "Fine, I have to give my master an urgent message. Happy?"

Mira's grip on Sellena's shoulder tightened slightly.

"Does this message have anything to do with Abbot Daniel dying or something? Because if it is –"

"What! No. I give you my word that it's nothing like that. But please," the vixen tried using her most pleading expression, "I must see the Grey Warlord."

"Hmm…okay then." Mira drawled out slowly.

Once the badger had let go of her, Sellena breathed out a silent thanks and opened the door as she ran into Cavern Hole. It took her a while to spot out her master among so many other beasts and Redwallers, but after she had run about a bit, she saw him sitting at one of the head tables along with the other leaders.

Now that she knew where he was, Sellena smoothed down her fur calmly and walked over to him.

"Your majesty…may I have a word?"

King Ironspear's green piercing eyes flicked over to her. He smiled and stood up. Asking the others to excuse him, he followed Sellena as she led him to a quieter part of Cavern Hole.

Once they were far out of earshot from other beasts, Sellena tried to keep a casual look on her face as she said, "He's here, master. The beast from my vision is here."

The Grey Warlord's breath paused at the implications at her words. "You… you mean the Taggerung? Are you sure?"

"Would I tell you if I wasn't?"

The wildcat's eyes widened and he leaned his back against a massive stone pillar. He breathed out a short whistle quietly. "I don't believe it! How far away is he?"

Sellena smiled as she heard the faint sound of the abbey's bells booming triumphantly. "I think that the beast in question must've been spotted by the Redwallers, sire. Hear the bells?"

King Ironspear shared his seer's smile as he brushed off imaginary specks of dust off of his breastplate. "Then let's go meet this mighty creature, shall we?"

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"They're back! They found the young ones!"

The guards on the western wall top jumped up and down as one ran down to open the small west gate, while the other ran to the abbey bell tower. After a few minutes, all of Redwall heard the sound of the giant twin bells ringing for all they were worth.

 _Ding! Dong!_

 _Ding! Dong!_

 _Ding! Dong!_

After Skipper Wildstream had rounded up the other searchers, they had marched their way home as fast as their tired, yet eager, paws could go. They were happy to see that they hadn't caught the abbey napping.

"They're sure excited to see us!" Gerardo said, "I have to admit that even though we were only gone for a couple days, I sure miss being home!"

"Yeah!" Sam agreed, his pace going faster and faster by the minute. "Let's hope that they've prepared a feast! I'm famished!"

The small side gate was swung open as the otter crew and young ones passed through it swiftly.

A sizeable group had gathered there. All of the Redwallers were ecstatic! There had been a certain gloom hanging over Redwall since the news of the Abbot's sickness had spread. But now there was finally a reason to rejoice: Sebias, Gerardo, and Sam were found.

"You're all back! Where were you? Are any of you hurt?"

"I say, you had us all worried."

A few suspicious glances were given to Tharko, Bergen, and Kirk as the three beasts filed in along with the rest of the group.

"Hey look, ma, a foxy!" a very young female hedgehog dibbun said, bouncing up and down. "Can I ride on his tail please?"

A vole wife nudged her husband. "Ben, do y' see that rat over there? And look at that fox! He looks like he could chop a beast in half with that huge chopper!"

Gerardo had two dibbuns stuck on each of his legs. He tried prying them off but they hugged him all the tighter.

"We missed you!" one said.

"Yes, and I missed you all as well, but let go." Gerardo tried to appear stern but he couldn't help it. They were finally home! His smile suddenly froze on his lips as he heard and saw a very familiar looking beast: Volerra Fieldmouse.

"Gerardo, you're back!" The female mouse's face seemed overjoyed at seeing her idol return. Gerardo almost wished the feeling of joy had been mutual, but it wasn't.

Volerra pushed creatures aside and practically flew through the air as she wrapped Gerardo in a very tight hug. The mouse's face turned a crimson red from embarrassment. He couldn't exactly push her away and escape into the crowd because of the dibbuns clinging to his footpaws. There was a noise that sounded like a cross between a cough and a sneeze, and Gerardo peeked over Volerra's shoulder and saw Sam trying his best to keep from exploding with laughter. Gerardo would've glared a storm at him, but before he could, Volerra gave him another tight squeeze and finally let him go, much to the young lad's relief.

"Yes…" Gerardo held up a paw as he tried to regain his breath. His lungs felt like they had been squashed with all of the squeezing. "…Some things never change unfortunately."

Kirk, Tharko, and Bergen had stood off to the side as the Redwallers welcomed the other young ones.

Wiggling his way through the crowd, Brother Michael smiled as he made it to the front where he could see the homecoming beasts.

"Ah, my history class wouldn't have been the same without you three." The squirrel's expression went serious for a minute. "You have a lot of homework to catch up on."

Sebias was caught off guard by the recorder's words. However, he just managed to catch the slight twinkle in the squirrel's eye and knew that he was joking. Sam on the other paw was temporarily stunned.

Sebias and Gerardo had difficulty not exploding from laughter as they saw Sam's expression go from being normal to utter shock in a flash. "But we were only gone for a couple of days! How –"

He broke off as Michael clapped him on the shoulder with a paw and began to chuckle. "I was kidding Sam! Honestly, I know I'm a dusty old recorder but that doesn't mean I can't try to crack a joke every once in a while. Now, back to business… So… Why did you three leave on the first place? Did you all think you'd just pop off and go on an adventure or something?"

Sam and Gerardo both looked at Sebias again. It was their natural reaction whenever they were asked about their 'quest' or about the otter's dream of Martin the Warrior.

"Heh, _I_ don't even know all the details why we left," Sebias replied, "but let's just say that we might've been…sent by a well-known protector of Redwall."

Michael paused as the last line sank in. Leaning in to them a little closer, he told the three creatures. "If you all aren't too tired I'd like to take you and your friends," – he indicated to Tharko, Kirk, and Bergen – "to the Gatehouse. We need to catch up on a few things…"

"Yeah, about that," Sebias scratched his head. "I think I heard something about…hamsters in Mossflower, an' something about 'A Grey Warlord'? I've never heard 'bout hamsters living in our region, and – not t' pat myself on th' back, but I feal like I've read almost every book on Mossflower's general history."

Brother Michael inwardly smiled with pride. He had taught his students well. "Yes, we'll talk about that too," he said, "Let's hurry though. I'll go gather the others."

The squirrel recorder took a little while to round up everybeast, but he eventually got most of them gathered in the Gatehouse.

Skipper, Brother Michael, King Ironspear, and Sellena the vixen were present, along with Sebias, Sam, Gerardo, Kirk, Tharko, and Bergen. Micahel would've liked it if Mother Mira could've come, but she had said that she still wanted to make sure that nobeast bothered Abbot Daniel.

"So," Pulling a quill out from his desk, the squirrel recorder put his writing paw at ready. "Let's begin, shall we? First, Sebias, what's this you said about a dream from our abbey protector? I assume you meant Martin the Warrior?"

Sebias nodded. "Aye, it was 'im. I'll try t' tell y' all I can remember… Martin the Warrior appeared to me in a dream the night before we left. At the time, he told me that I had to leave to find something or somebeast that could save Redwall from falling or something like that. I…can't remember everything, but I think he also said something about it falling into the wrong paws. So I asked Sam and Gerardo if they would 'elp me find whatever it, or who, we were lookin' fer, an' they said yes, so we left. That was when he bumped into Kirk, Tharko, and Bergen."

"An' did y' three find whatever y' were lookin' fer?" Skipper asked, throwing a glance over at the scarred otter and the two vermin standing off to the side.

"Sebias said that he had remembered something right before we heard Kirk yelling. But so far, he's kept a pretty tight lip on the subject." Sam commented.

Sebias winked. "That's because I wanted to be the first one to tell Abbot – Hey," the otter paused and looked around the room slowly as he just noticed something. "Where _is_ Abbot Daniel?"

"Yeah, that's right," Gerardo agreed, equally puzzled. "Was he too busy to come? I didn't even see him when we were welcomed at the gate."

"He's…not feeling well, but my healer says he just needs some rest." King Ironspear replied, shooting a quick glance at Sellena. "Now, please, continue. I'm most intrigued by your story."

"Um…yeah, okay." Sebias twiddled his paws nervously. "Where was I? …Oh, I remember. I was going to say what it was that Martin sent us to find." A smile broke out on his face. "Kirk, Tharko, and Bergen, could you please come over here for a second?"

The three creatures glanced at each other as all of the eyes in the room fixed on them.

"Er…okay…"

They walked over to Sebias and stood, unsure of what they were supposed to do.

"Thank you. Would you all mind holding up your left paw please?" Sebias asked. He asked, his nervousness beginning to fade away. "I couldn't remember until right before we found Skipper an' th' otter crew, but Martin the Warrior had told me that the creature we needed to find had a mark on his left paw. Kirk, Bergen, and Tharko, do any of y' have a birthmark or a scar on yer left paw."

Tharko instantly glanced down at his paw as if he had just realized it was there. After scanning it to make sure that a mark hadn't magically appeared while they were talking, he shrugged and held it up. "Mine only has a few tiny scars from past battles."

Bergen gulped slowly at all of the attention and quickly threw his paw in the air for all to see. No mark.

Sebias saw that Kirk hadn't even bothered to take off the metal gauntlet on his paw yet. Instead, he stared across the table where Ironspear and Sellena both sat. The wildcat warlord smiled faintly. So faintly that it could barely be seen.

The room went silent as everybeast in it watched the two vermin stare at each other, the wildcat's green eyes met with the fox's solid brown. It was as if two great powers were contesting before their eyes, each trying to pierce the other's thoughts. And then, Brother Michael coughed awkwardly and the brief moment passed so fast that the creatures thought that they had imagined it in the first place.

"Ahem. Kirk," Brother Michael smiled kindly. "Could we please see your left paw?"

"Okay." Kirk drew in a deep breath and slowly, ever so slowly, unbuckled the gauntlet and slid it off. He held up his paw slowly, his face smirking knowingly. "I think your 'warrior mouse' was indeed talking about me, my friends. Though how this mouse spirit of yours knew about me is a mystery."

Everybeast had come to this meeting expecting another boring drawn-out talk, but instead, they seemed to lean forward as they looked at Kirk's palm. Right in the middle, faint, but undoubtedly there, was a mark. A mark shaped like a small speedwell flower. The sign of a Taggerung!

Skipper whistled. "Well I'll be. He _does_ 'ave a birthmark. The question is though, is wither it's the right one."

King Ironspear chuckled. "No, I'm afraid there is no question here. I've…studied and read a lot about the Taggerungs and their origins. The speedwell flower is the right mark."

Kirk made an unsure gesture with his paws. "So…what exactly am I supposed to do? Just sit here and wait for this Martin fellow to say what he wants me to do?" His amused expression suddenly faltered as he saw everyone staring at him very seriously.

"Oh..." Kirk held up a claw. "Could you all please give me a moment?" Seeing no objections, he slowly walked just outside of the gatehouse to clear his mind and to think.

Skipper scratched his head sheepishly as he said to his fellow abbey beats. "You know, the lad _does_ 'ave a point... He saves one of our young one's life an' instead of rolling out th' red carpet fer 'im, we reward him by saying that he's a part of some huge prophecy an' that he might 'ave t' put his life in danger for us. It's probably a lot t' take in."

"Yes." Sellena folded her paws and set them on the table. "Maybe we should just go about our business until later. We should all give him time to think."

" _We_?" Skipper still hadn't met Sellena, and was still getting used to the idea of taking advice from vermin.

"Fine," Sellena rolled her eyes and sighed. " _You_ _all_ should give him time to think."

"Er… That's not what I meant –"

"Ahem." Before the conversation dragged out longer than was necessary, Brother Michael interrupted. "I guess this meeting is over." He tapped his chin with his feathered quill, not realizing that it was still wet with ink. "Skipper, if you aren't busy, could you please meet me on the north walltop? Otherwise, I'll see you all later tonight at dinner."


	40. Chapter 39

**Author Note:**

 **Seakard: Yes siree! More mystery is on its way!**

 **JP fanfic: I had wanted to make sure that the readers detested Lagworth as much as my characters when I introduced him, so I think that's a good thing you don't like him. :-P**

 **Waycaster: Yes. Taggness (Love the name by the way.** **) shall be a thing to dive into in later chapters. Well, I'm honored that you like Sellena so much.**

 **The Grey Coincidence: Dun Dun Dun! Indeed!** **We've got us a Taggerung! To be honest, I had actually loved your idea of somewhat as surprising as Bergen being the "mighty one." XD Oh well, maybe next time. Hmm … Theorizing about King Ironspear. Good.** _ **Very good.**_ **His intentions for Kirk shall be a very fun thing for me as the writer to jump into. Hopefully, it'll be just as, or even more fun, for my readers. XD Bergen meeting soap and a scrubbing brush would indeed be a hilarious thing to see. XD**

 **Abrahem: Thanks. I personally was rather proud of the scene when Sellena sensed the Taggerung as well. I haven't done *that* much seer stuff yet, but I'm sure I'll get more opportunities in the future.**

 **Firestar the Warrior: I probably say this about 99.99% of all the scenes I write, but here it goes: The part with Vollera giving Gerardo a (Very long and very unwanted) hug was fun to write indeed! XD And yes, I agree with you about Ironspear and Kirk. It shall be interesting seeing their interaction.**

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 **MOSSFLOWER**

Just above the trees of Mosslower woods, a young golden eagle pushed his tired and exhausted wings forward. The sun above beat down on him. His left wing felt like it was on fire as pain shot through it with every flap.

"I –Crah!– …must find that red-stone place…" His quiet voice croaked. Arjarro was a young bird, quite large compared to other creatures. His gold and white feathers were still muddy and full of little twigs from the last place he had landed; a small swamp.

The green foliage beneath Arjarro began to blur. His vision was fading from lack of sleep. Shaking his head to try to clear it, he put all of his last reserves of energy into a final push as he saw the winding River Moss below him hit a crossroad. He knew that the place he was searching for was close. Hopefully he'd be able to get there before his strength ran out.

Giving a few more loud squawks the bird pressed onward.

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 **REDWALL ABBEY**

When Kirk had gone out of the gatehouse, a few of the guards had stared at him warily but kept their distance. They watched him closely out of the corner of their eyes as he walked away toward the apple trees at the end of the abbey orchards.

The black fox bent down and grabbed one of the fallen apples lying on the ground. His mind was in a whirl, though on the outside, he looked completely calm.

To Kirk, it seemed like he left the mortal world briefly as he reached out with his thoughts in search for the one beast who could give him council. Since he was a seer, even though technically, still a learning one, the Taggerung was able to share thoughts with certain spirits in the Silent Forest…or even places that were far more dark and terrifying.

The abbey trees and grass around him seemed to blur more and more until it became a sheet of green. The world began to spin before his eyes and when the Taggerung blinked, he found himself in a long, empty, dark field. Pillars of stone rose upward in a small circle in the middle of the field, pointing up into the dark pitch-black void.

Kirk walked forward slowly until he reached the circle of stone pillars. Walking into the center, he looked around, surveying them.

"What were y' thinkin'? Why in th' bloody name of ripped guts did yew tell those meddlesome Redwallers that yew are th' Taggerung?!"

Even without seeing the beast that had spoken, Kirk knew who it was. "I'm assuming you saw what happened then."

The fox slowly turned around to see the angry-faced ferret floating off the ground a few paces away. The ferret's face was covered with blue tattoos. He wore a long, full, white robe and the eyes on his hard face glowed with a fire that no mortal creature could possibly have.

"They know! I told ya, didn't I? I told ya they'd find out! An' there ya go, strutting in there 'n' showin' 'em your mark like ya didn't 'aves a care in the world!" The ferret's eyes suddenly changed and lit up with curiosity. "What do ya think of that wildcat feller? He seems to not be as normal as most mortals. I wonder…could he be th' bloody beast that has been sendin' those bounty-'unters after ya?"

"Him?" Kirk raised an eyebrow. "Well… I have to admit, there is a certain mystery about him. I'm assuming he could be a seer of some sort – though there is something that I think wouldn't quite fit that description… Either way, I couldn't tell if he's one of my long time pursuers or just some random warlord."

"Just make sure y' tread carefully. I had said that comin' 'ere was a bad idea in th' first place."

"Oh, pfft, you worry too much sometimes. I can handle myself."

The robed ferret shook his tattooed head slowly. "He who is overconfident should be wary. Th' path ahead could always turn down a much more difficult and narrow road."

"' _Could'_ being the key word." Kirk grinned. He waved a paw dismissively. "I'll be fine. I've dealt with some of the best warriors and seers across the lands. I'm not going to leave just because of some armored wildcat."

"Hmm…" The ferret hovered around Kirk in a few circles. Holding up a paw, the spirit spoke. "Yes, I'm afraid I can't talk more until later. In the mortal world your physical body is about to collide with fate itself."

"Collide with fate itself? What's that supposed –" His mental image was shattered and his thoughts crashed back to where he was in Redwall Abbey's orchard as he felt his body getting slammed into by a creature.

Kirk gave a grunt of surprise as he collapsed in a heap with the strange beast. It was getting difficult for him to breath, and his eyes couldn't see a thing. Whoever the creature on him was, it was wiggly, large, and seemed to be wearing something made of feathers…

"Ahoy!" A gruff voice called out. "What 'ave we got 'ere, mates?"

Kirk gasped for air as the creature – which appeared to be a bird of some kind now that he could see it without it smoldering his vision – was dragged off by a gang of shrews and hamsters that had been passing by.

Log-a-log pulled Kirk to his footpaws, his paw holding the tip of his rapier's handle as he gave the fox a suspicious glance. "An' _how_ did ya get in here? I don't remember seeing you."

Kirk ignored the shrew chieftain's question and instead knelt down beside the eagle beside him. The golden eagle would have been quite the majestic sight under different (and kinder) circumstances. The black fox lightly brushed his paws across the bird's eyes. He and the shrews and hamsters all jumped back as it screeched out and lashed out with both of his wings.

"Creeeeaahhaaargh! Earth-crawlers back off from Arjarro!"

As the rest kept a considerable amount of distance between them and the angry and tired eagle, Kirk slowly took a step forward and held out a paw.

"What are ya doing, fox?" Log-a-log asked, his face scrunched up with puzzlement.

"Shh! Lower your voices. We need to keep him calm." Continuing forward Kirk went closer and closer to Arjarro. The bird had plopped back onto the ground, exhausted from its brief outburst.

Kirk made soothing sounds with his voice and slowly rested his paw on the bird's neck. "We don't mean to hurt you…Arjarro, wasn't it?"

The bird clacked his beak in a tired chuckle and said with a screeching tone of voice, "Aye, Arjarro my name. Forgive me for my reaction … I had forgotten where I am. I'm at the red-stone place, correct?"

"Yes y' are." Log-a-log sheathed his rapier back into its scabbard and strutted closer. "Don't worry. As long as ya don't try t' eat somebeast, everything will be just fine."

Arjarro suddenly blinked rapidly and glanced around at the abbey orchard. Friars, sisters, and even dibbuns had all started to gather around as they noticed their abbey's newest visitor.

From the back of the small crowd a voice was heard above the quiet whispers and murmuring of astonishment.

"What's all the commotion this time? Excuse me. Pardon me."

Brother Michael and Skipper – along with an equally curious King Ironspear – made their way to the collapsed bird. Skipper shot Kirk and Log-a-log a glance and then turned to the bird.

"Well 'ello there, mate. What brings ya t' Redwall Abbey?" Skipper asked.

Arjarro opened his beak and clacked it a few times. "Bring me to chief earth-crawler first!"

Skipper shook his head slowly as he said, "Can't do that, matey, he's terribly ill." Indicating himself and Brother Michael, he continued, "I guess you could kinda say that we'd be two of th' beasts in charge for th' time being. You can tell us."

Arjarro looked half willing to argue further but then appeared to change his mind. "I…I lived on West Coast with my brother 'n' sisters. We had heard sounds by our nest and went to check 'em out." He drew in a deep breath. "We saw hundreds, no, thousands of nasty earth-crawler verminfaces marching along the shore, many, many of 'em. We decided to watch to see what verminfaces were up to … We found out." The bird shuddered a few times as he tried to stay awake. Now that his adrenaline had died down, Arjarro was finding it even harder to stay awake.

"What? What were they up to?" King Ironspear asked. He surprised the other Redwallers by reaching down and, grabbing the bird, shook him roughly.

"Enough." Brother Michael ran forward and waved his paws. "Please, can't you see he's on the verge of falling over from exhaustion? Give him a second."

The Grey Warlord glanced at him and sighed impatiently, relaxing his hold on the bird but not letting go completely. "Please, tell us."

Arjarro rolled his head around in a slow circle. "…The…the verminfaces went to mountain-place. What'ch call it…Salamindastroon?"

"Salamandastron," Brother Michael corrected grimly. He and Skipper shared another quick look.

"There's more," Arjarro croaked, or at least, came as close as an eagle can ever come to croaking, "We saw 'em surround the mountain. They were attacking da hares inside methinks." Tears began to fall from his eyes as he went on. "That was when the vermin scum shot my two sisters an' my brudder with arrows. We didn't stand a chance. My brudder said that the hares any many more innocent beasts would die if I didn't get help. He said…to…go to the red-stone abbey-place…" The eagle's head fell forward, unconscious.

"Take this bird to the Infirmary!" Skipper ordered loudly, waving his giant paws around so that the other curious beasts would make room.

"I'll get 'im there!" Log-a-log and his shrews each grabbed Arjarro and began to carry him through the throng surrounding them. A few more of the bigger beasts helped out and Kirk saw that the bird was in good paws.

The fox's sharp ears pricked up as he heard King Ironspear give an order to a hamster beside him. "Go outside and tell my troops to prepare to leave at once."

It appeared that Brother Michael had heard the wildcat's words as well. "Are you going all the way to Salamandastron to help fight the vermin?" The squirrel asked. "I thought you said that you had to return to Southsward as soon as a treaty was signed."

King Ironspear glanced skyward. "What kind of cowardly kitten do you think I am? Of course I'm marching to the mountain! If what that bird says is true, then you'll need all the help you can get."

"Oh, I'm sorry if that came out as an accusation." Michael blustered, "I didn't mean any offence…"

"None taken, friend." The armored wildcat winked at the squirrel. He turned to Skipper, "Once Log-a-log comes back, do you think that you could tell him that I plan to leave as soon as possible. He might want to tag along with his tribe if there is a chance to fight those…unsavory characters."

"I bet he would," Skipper agreed heartedly, grinning at the prospect of action. "I'll get my otter crew as well. We've been pretty bored fer th' last summer, and some of 'em have friends at Salamandastron. We'll make sure that we'll give those blasted vermin cold steel fer breakfast!"

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It took two full days for all of the traveling preparations to get done. The war party that was leaving so far consisted of King Ironspear's seven hundred hamsters, Log-a-log's tribe of two hundred shrews, and a collection of three-score brawny otters and a few of the other Redwallers that Skipper deemed tough enough to come.

"I wish we could've come with you, Sebbie."

Sebias smiled to Gerardo. "I know, so do I. But Skipper said it would be best for y' both t' stay. I mean, guarding Redwall is one of the most important jobs of all! I'm sure you'll both do great."

Sam hastily brushed a paw across his eyes as Sebias turned to him. They thumped each other on the back three times as they hugged each other, then, throwing their heads back, they barked out like a seal. The trio had invented their own version of a hug goodbye. Each thump on the back represented each of them, and how they'd always be together, watching their back. As for the seal bark…they weren't exactly sure why that had chosen that. It sounded unique and when it comes to best friend pawshakes, uniqueness is one of the most important things.

"Who else is gonna watch your back now?" Sam asked, playfully punching the otter on the shoulder as Sebias gave Gerardo a hug as well.

"I guess I'll just 'ave t' rely on Skipper." Sebias replied with a grin. "Don't worry, I might not be th' best fighter in all of th' lands, but I can handle myself."

"Don't do anything crazy." Gerardo smiled as he added, "Or at least, nothing we wouldn't do."

"I'll…try my best, but I make no promises."

Sebias knew that if he thought too long about what was happening then it would be a lot harder to say goodbye to the only place and beasts that he had ever known. He couldn't believe it! He was actually leaving his life-long friends that he had barely ever been away from for more than a week, and he was to accompany an army that would fight in one of the biggest battles that Salamandastron had seen in seasons! Suddenly, the young otter felt like his head was going to explode with all of the thoughts and doubts that were beginning to swamp him.

"Er…are you okay, Sebbie?" Gerardo asked with concern, his whiskers twitching.

The words were out of his mouth before Sebias even realized what he was saying. "It's just… What if I don't come back from this battle? Or even if I do, what if it's with my legs cut out from under me? What if my battle training with Skipper wasn't enough? What if you both–" his eyes darted down to the ground.

"'What if we both' what," Gerardo asked.

Sebias sheepishly kicked a pebble with his toe. "What if you both don't even recognize me as the same otter when I get back, I hear war can do that to a beast…"

"Oh, pish-posh!" Gerardo lightly punched the young otter in the gut softly. "Don't worry about us not recognizing you. I'm afraid we'll never forget be able to forget you. No matter how hard we try." He added with a wink. "You've got one of those faces I'm afraid."

"Well, I doubt you'd forget me entirely." Sebias rolled his eyes as he couldn't help but smile. He felt most of his doubts melt away, at least for now. He knew that the depressing thoughts would come back, but for now, his friends were here. It was hard to be in the depths of despair with Gerardo and Sam.

Seeing Skipper beckoning him over to the rest of the otter crew, Sebias let out a slow sigh. "Well, this is it. Skipper's calling me. I guess I gotta go."

"Alright then," Gerardo threw him a crisp salute jokingly. "Take care of yourself!"

"Bring me back a souvenir from Salamandastron!" Sam called as Sebias turned around and jogged over to Skipper, waving his paw in farewell.

Gerardo nudged Sam in the ribs with his elbow and asked out of the corner of his mouth. "What do you mean a souvenir? He's going to a battle! Not a picnic! What do you want, a body of a dead vermin or something gross?"

"Well…maybe a sword or something." Sam scratched his head. "Or maybe a small chunk of rock from the mountain itself."

Gerardo was just about to laugh when he stopped, a look of terror in his eyes. Sam, puzzled, turned around and saw what had caused the mouse's reaction. A small grin formed on his face as he saw Volerra walking through the crowd, obviously looking for her one-sided crush.

"Maybe you should've begged Skipper a bit harder for us to go." Sam threw back his head and laughed. "I guess Sebias is going to have to face the horror and madness of war, but you have something even worse…a certain female field mouse."

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A short while later, after all of the creatures had said their goodbyes, the army formed into ranks and began their long march westward. Creatures filled the ramparts as the Redwallers – and those of the Guosim that were either too young or old – waved their paws and yelled out words of farewell.

"Skipper, make sure you take care of my lad Willie! He's not too great at this sort of thing yet."

"Come back soon!"

"Goodbye, Ruddly me matey, good luck!"

"Happy travels!"

Sam and Gerado tip-pawed as high as they could, waving their paws in the air wildly.

"See you, Sebias! We'll tell Friar Peter to start cooking for your return feast!"

"Bye, Seb! Stay safe, Kirk and Tharko! Keep an eye on Sebbie for us!"

Bergen had also joined the two young beasts on the wall. It had been decided that – as long as it was alright with Brother Michael and Mother Mira – the young rat was to stay at the abbey. Skipper had secretly thought he was way too scrawny and he bet his whiskers that the rat would only prove to be a hindrance. Kirk and Tharko on the other paw were allowed to come. Skipper had said that he wanted to see the so-called Taggerung in action. Kirk at first had hesitated when he heard the news. But after a bit of wrangling from Tharko, the black fox had agreed to come along.

Brother Michael raised both of his paws in the air in a blessing. Normally the abbot would do this, but he was sick and the other abbey leaders had thought it best if the squirrel recorder should take this responsibility, hopefully, for just this once.

"May the Spirit of Martin the Warrior be with you all! May he guide you as you try to free Salamandastron from the scourge of its invaders, and may you help restore peace to all of the lands!"

Hamsters, shrews, otters and woodlanders of all kinds cheered at the squirrel's words. King Ironspear nodded respectively to all of the Redwallers, then turned and boomed out in a thunderous voice.

"Captains, go to your units! At my word! Ready? … Forward, march!"

Birds in the trees above them paused and glanced down at the long, winding mass of beasts marching toward the Western Plains as dust rose from their pounding feet.

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 _Footnote: Ah, my dear readers._ Book II: The Warlord's Arrival _has finally come to a close._ Book III: The Warlord's Might _shall begin with the next chapter. Happy reading to all!_

 _~Sebias of Redwall Abbey~_


	41. Chapter 40 Book III: The Warlord's Might

**Author Note:**

 **Waycaster: Juska ferret. Are you sure? Maybe he's just a random vermin or something. *Twiddles paws and whistles innocently* Ahem, anywho, I like your thoughts about Ironspear's motives. Maybe while he's at it, he might just move in and become lord of the mountain if Lord Rockfur retires or… *Glances around* gets mysteriously bumped off… Just kidding! (Then again…am I?) :-P**

 **Happy writing to you!**

 **Firestar the Warrior: Yes, Bergen might need somebeast to keep an eye on him. Or two pairs of eyes in this case. XD Enjoy reading!**

 **Seakard: Hmm… sounds like I have a quota to fill. I'll do my best to make in a royal battle.**

 **The Grey Coincidence: Hmm… I didn't even think of that. Both of our Book II's ended roughly at the same time. What a coincidence. (Pun intended) XD Poison, eh? Well, even if I wanted to, I don't think I could tell you if that was true or false because… *Glances around. Whispers:* It's a secret.**

" **Jimminy Ferret" Hmm… I like it! I shall refer to him by that name until his true name is revealed. XD Arjarro with awe-inspiring powers… Hmm… We shall see, won't we.**

 **Happy reading to you!**

 **JP fanfic: I don't think it's just you, JP. I do have quite a lot of characters … Maybe too many. (Though, of course I think I can never have too many sometimes.) XD I've noticed that it's probably hard for my readers to keep track of 'em all. I hope you like the new trio! Happy writing to you!**

 **And now, here's the first chapter to** _ **Book III: The Warlord's Might.**_ **I hope you all enjoy the next chapters!**

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 **NORTHLANDS: IRONDEEP**

Rones would've continued pacing up and down IronDeep's Main Hall if it wasn't for the fact that his footpaws were covered completely in blisters and felt like they had been walking nonstop since he, Rosebud, and Elmblade had asked Lord Nightwrath to help them look for Flugg.

Rones remembered how the badger had immediately sent for some mole warriors to start searching the tunnels where Flugg was seen last. He had assured them that the young shrew had probably only taken a wrong turn and was waiting patiently for them to find him. That had been the day before. There was still no sign of him.

Rones, Rosebud, and Elmblade had continued to search with the moles all evening and through most of the night. The shrews and the MacBurl squirrel would've kept on searching longer but Lord Nightwrath had ordered for Axburr and a couple of the moles that weren't still searching to escort them back to their rooms.

Rones thought he wouldn't've been able to sleep a wink that night, but the hours of worry and stress had taken their toll on the white-furred shrew. He slept deeply for the rest of the night, and it wasn't until later that morning that he woke. The moment he left his room, two mole guards that had been stationed nearby had told him that he was to go to the Main Hall where they'd be serving his breakfast.

"But I don't want no breakfast!" Rones had scowled, "I want tae find mae son!"

Still, after he realized that the moles wouldn't back down, and since his belly felt like a hollow log, he had finally agreed reluctantly and followed them. He now rubbed his sore footpaws from where he sat with Elmblade and Rosebud.

"Ach, this Deeper'n'ever Pie is actually pretty good," Elmblade commented. The young squirrel was never one to let good food go to waste, and though he still didn't quite trust Lord Nightwrath and his moles completely, he decided to make an exception. "Ye should try some of it Rones."

"I'm not hungry," the shrew replied. He was sick of all this. When Broge and the rest of the Northtrekkers had been slaughtered by the searats, he had been forced to run for the hills to make sure that Flugg, Rosebud, and Tragg would stay safe. He had failed. He had failed Broge. He had failed his son.

 _It's probably only a matter of seconds before I somehow manage to misplace Rosebud as well!_ Rones thought sourly to himself. It angered him that he actually had to glance over to his left to make sure that Rosebud was indeed still seated beside him. _This has been a fine kettle of fish._

Rosebud's brown eyes were full of sympathy as she reached out and laid her paw on Rones' arm.

"They'll find Flugg," she said, squeezing his arm a little more tightly in reassurance, "and Tragg too."

"Hmm…" Rones grunted. The shrew's eyes flickered open wide suddenly as he caught sight of movement at the hall's main door. A mole dressed in a long grey tunic and wearing a dark blue sash with flowery patterns on it came walking in quickly, yet with a sense of calmness.

Once the grey-clad mole saw the squirrel and the two shrews at the table, he instantly made his way to them. Giving Rones a curt bow, he said, "Pardon oi, moi zur, but oi've been zent by Lurd Nightwrath t' give ee a message."

Rones noticed that the mole had used mole-speech in his haste.

Elmblade looked up from his food and asked, "Ach, what does ye bonnie master want now?" The squirrel suddenly paused. "Is it Flugg or Tragg?"

They all exchanged excited looks and Rosebud's face instantly lit up as they saw the mole nod his head.

"Where are they? Did they find both o' 'em? If nae, which one did they find? How far are they? For goodness sake, say somethin'!"

"We'm 'aven't founded you'm's friends yet," the mole said, waving his digging claws, he continued quickly, "But we'm founded zum tracks, Lurd Nightwrath says that ee thinks they lead t' a series o' abandoned tunnels in th' east part o' th' mountains, hur aye. Ee said t' fetch you'm all right away 'cause he's taken a few 'undred warriors to go sniff out th' tunnels."

Rones slapped Rosebud on the back joyfully. "I guess ye were right, lassie!" The older shrew grinned as he jumped up from his seat. "Lead us tae that badger lord o' yours, mae mole friend!"

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 **NORTHLANDS**

The slavers pushed and shoved the chained slaves through the long twisted tunnel that led out of the slavers' underground camp. After a good deal of walking, the large company of beasts finally came to the end of the tunnel. The entrance had been disguised with several large, thick, bushes. This specific tunnel was only used as access to the river so Bertvar hadn't focused too much on it compared to the other ways into his camp. That didn't mean he left it totally unguarded though. A group of six vermin were stationed there at all times.

Before anybeast could pull the camouflage out of their way so that they could exit, Bertvar barked out an order.

"Furgly, you stay here with a score of fighters and keep a wary eye on the slaves. The rest of you will follow me. I want to make sure there are no unpleasant surprises waiting for us."

Ducking his head the large wolf lead his vermin out into the open, pushing aside the bushes blocking his way as he did so. The slave-master could hear the sound of a large running river. The sunlight peeked through the branches of the trees overhead, happily unaware at what was taking place beneath it.

Once roughly eight score of his vermin had filed out into the clearing and to the surrounding pine trees, Bertvar indicated for two vermin to step forward.

"Sneak on over to the river and see if Chief Bugfoot and his rats are still there. Come straight back."

The wolf unsheathed his long scimitar from his snake-skin belt and leaned on it. However, he only _looked_ casual. His senses were sharp and his eyes darted about. It was wise for anybeast that was in the slaver business to make sure that they never, ever let their guard down. The creature that did was often proved to be the fool, or worse; a dead beast.

The wolf's ears pricked up as sounds of the scouts returning reached them.

One of the scouts, a stoat, nodded his head over to the direction of the river. "Aye," he said in a gruff voice, "we found the river-rats. We saw their boss as well. He didn't look like he was very happy with that fact that he's still waiting on us to bring 'im his cargo."

"Hmm, I think that pompous old windbag can handle something as small as waiting. Besides, he's getting paid more than he deserves as it is."

Bertvar gave orders for some of the vermin to fan out and to keep an eye out for any woodlanders, especially any of Lord Nightwrath's and his annoying mole warriors. Then he signaled for Furgly the fox to bring out the long line of chained slaves.

The two scouts led them through the pine trees until they saw the river. Chief Bugfoot and his river-rat tribe straightened up in their rafts and canoes made of logs when they saw Bertvar and his slavers.

"Well ye sure took yer time in getting' 'ere," Chief Bugfoot called as he ordered his boat to go to shore. The chief was a large brown rat. He wore bone bracelets on his wrists and all of his neck and face was covered with red tattoos. He was a great deal heavier than most rats, though he was quite the fearsome warrior when his will was crossed. Jumping from his raft to shore, he spat on the ground and looked up at the towering Bertvar.

"Well. Are those all of the slaves?" Bugfoot asked, pointing behind the wolf and his slavers where the woodlanders stood, blinking in the sunlight. "Some of 'em seem kinda scrawny."

"Well," Bertvar said calmly with a mocking grin, "Considering you're not their current buyer, it doesn't necessarily matter what you think of them." He made as if to walk past the large rat and halted as Bugfoot held up a claw.

"Now hold on there, Bert. There's been a little change of plan. I want ye t' give me 'alf of th' payment afore we leave. Can't be too careful these days, eh?"

Bertvar scoffed. "I had been wondering when you'd say something like that." He waved a paw for his vermin to start loading the slaves on the boats. "I'll pay you a quarter of the full price once we are ready to leave. Not a moment sooner."

"Ha! That's what you think!"

As the rat took an angry step forward, Bertvar's eyes turned hard and the wolf spoke in a dangerously calm voice.

"That _is_ indeed what I think, rat." He smiled. Before the fat rat could move another step closer, the larger beast grabbed his shoulder. Leaning a little closer, the wolf whispered quietly, "You know, I've killed beasts twice your size before. My slavers outnumber your rats, and I have no qualms killing the lot of you and taking your boats for myself." His voice hardened as he suddenly grabbed Bugfoot by the front of his shirt with one paw and lifted him until his footpaws were off the ground so that they were eye to eye. "Do you understand my meaning?"

Bugfoot's eyes bulged as he struggled to make the wolf put him down. "Ack – Yes … Understood!"

"Hmm, good," He replied. Dropping the heavy rat, Bertvar wiped his paw on his fur with disgust as if he had been touching something unspeakably revolting, which, in Bertvar's opinion, Bugfoot _was_ exactly that.

Bugfoot saw the river-rats under his command exchanging looks, and the rat boss tried desperately to scrounge up what little dignity he had left. He straightened the front of his shirt and rested a paw on one of the small hatchets thrust in his belt. Glaring up at the massive wolf, he scowled angrily, though this time, a lot less sincere than before. "We'll do as y' ask fer now. But remember, me an' my gang 'ave paddled and sailed on almost every single stream and river in all of the Northlands an' even as far down as th' River Moss in Mossflower. There are a lot of nasty surprises that only we know of, so you'd best remember that, Bert." He spat.

Bertvar knew from many seasons of experience that the rat was only trying to keep a bold face in front of his crew of rats. _A desperate chief trying to prove himself to his followers can sometimes be unpredictable,_ he thought. Shrugging, Bertvar said aloud in reply, "Your payment will be paid in due time. For now, I'll give you some of it in advance."

He called for two muscular looking foxes to step forward with a heavy wooden chest. They set it down in front of Bugfoot, and the rat creaked it open just enough for himself to peek inside. His eyes gleamed with greed and he smiled. "Well then, Berty me mate, let's get these slaves of yers loaded up."

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"Come on, scum, move those sorry tails or ye'll taste my whip!"

Furgly the fox brandished his long whip and flicked a small mouse slave's ear with it as he walked by him onto the ramp. "I said _move_!"

Once Bugfoot had given permission for the slaves to load onto the boats and rafts, Tragg and Flugg were ushered into a group that was supposed to hop onto one of the rafts. The river rafts had been built with unwilling passengers in mind, made evident by the wooden bars with metal rings for chains and ropes to slip through. Tying the slaves to the boats did two things: it made it harder for them to escape, and it also made the slaves realize that if they didn't help the boat stay afloat, they would go down along with it.

A thick, flat, wooden ramp went from the raft to the shore. Only two beasts could go on at a time. Four slavers stood at each end of the ramp to make sure there was no 'funny business' and that things went smoothly. It wouldn't help if some of the slaves made things hectic by slipping into the water or trying to escape before their chains and ropes were secured.

"Does yer eye feel alright, Tragg?" Flugg asked as he helped guide his cousin through the throng of slaves. "Maybe once we get on our boat we can soak a cloth wit' some nice, cool stream water 'n' put it on yer eye. Sound good?"

Tragg replied, "Aye." The injured shrew gave his friend a half-hearted smile as he touched the bandage on his eye. "Just remember," He whispered, pulling Flugg closer so that there was less of a chance of the slavers overhearing, "if ye 'n' Dunagan see even th' smallest chance o' escape, take it!" He held up a paw to silence Flugg's objection. "I'd only slow ye both down, but if one o' ye escape, ye might be able tae bring back 'elp, an' _that_ would be a lot smarter than dragging a half-blind shrew wit' ye."

Flugg merely grunted disapprovingly in reply as they walked through the other skinny and stinky slaves. Dunagan had been one of the first to be loaded and chained to the raft. The two short shrews had to push and shove to make sure that they didn't get trampled due to their small size.

It was finally their turn to get on the plank. Tragg looked like he was having doubts about wither or not balancing on a wooden beam was a good idea. He wasn't sure how the stream water would affect his eye wound if he fell in.

"Ach, but what if there are pike in this water?" he asked aloud to the vermin guarding them. "Or poisonous water snakes? I hear they are really deadly!"

"An' I'm even _more_ deadly," Furgly snarled, raising his whip in the air threateningly, "So get on."

"Okay, okay, whatever ye say." Tragg blinked a few times as it seemed like the plank before him started to blur and sway back and forth. _This is going to be interesting…_

"'Ere, pal, I've got ye." Flugg said.

Once they got on the long plank, Flugg slowly began to guide Tragg along it. They followed behind a large hedgehog and a young female shrew.

 _Will I always be crippled because of my eye,_ Tragg thought.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts mentally, he told himself sternly, _Now, now, Tragg, what would Rosebud think of you if she knew her brother was moaning and moping to himself? She'd box you on the ears and tell you to grow up and think!_ He smiled fondly as he thought of his twin. _Ah, Rosebud, I wish you were here – I mean, not here literally, but…_

Tragg was suddenly wrenched from his thoughts. One of the slaves behind them, a grey squirrel, had suddenly realized there and then that he was, in fact, scared of the water. Much to the other slaves still on the plank's dismay, the grey squirrel tried to push his way through as he fought to get on land or more preferably, the raft (That way, he wouldn't be forced to go over the water twice).

He shouldered his way in between Flugg and Tragg and started to pass the large hedgehog in the front.

"Why you!" the hedgehog spat, grabbing the squirrel by the shoulders. "Wait yer turn, you flea-bag!" He shoved the other slave back, straight into the female shrew by his side. The young slave desperately grasped out for anything to stop her from falling, and that _anything_ happened to be Flugg!

Flugg barked out a shout of surprise, and he and the other shrew both fell with a _splash_ into the running river.

Tragg instantly ran over to the side and, kneeling on his knees, held out a paw for Flugg to grab as he and the young, female shrew came coughing and thrashing to the surface.

"Please! I can't swim well!" The female maid yelled, one paw clinging to the top of Flugg's head and the other flailing about in the water.

"Gurg! Get –oof!– off of mae head!" Flugg protested as his head went under water from her weight. "I –bluh!– can't swim for both o' us!"

Flugg managed to grasp Tragg's paw, and he pulled himself and the other female slave closer to the plank. After a bit of complicated pulling and climbing, a few of the vermin came over and helped haul the two shrews out of the river.

Flugg stood along the beam with the maiden, still shaken from falling into the river. They were both dripping wet from head to toe.

A couple more guards ran up and restored the order with the quarreling hedgehog and squirrel. "You'll be beggin' t' get in that water once we're through wit' you!" A vermin snarled as he hit the squirrel in the back with his spear shaft.

The line continued on. Two river-rats shoved the three shrews in one of the corners of the raft.

After the slaves had been retied, the rats huffed and went back to sorting out the others. As Flugg and the stranger tried to dry off, Tragg finally got to see the female shrew clearly for the first time. She was young, roughly around his and Flugg's age. She wore a simple brown smock with a few tattered holes in the sleeves. Tragg thought that she had the deepest green eyes he had ever seen, and the softest looking chocolate brown fur, and the nicest smile… For the second time that day, he shook his head to get his thoughts back on track.

"Ahem," he cleared his throat as he pulled out a small, dirty rag from the back of his kilt's belt and handed it to Flugg, "are both of ye okay?"

"Hmmp, just peachy," Flugg replied, wiping his eyes with the cloth.

"I'm…I'm so sorry 'bout clawing at you," the female said to Flugg, shaking her long headfur to dry it. "I didn't mean to climb on you like that, It's just that I can't swim you see and-"

"Nah, don't worry about it." Flugg said, rubbing a paw through his head fur. He looked at his paw where a few red scratches could be seen. "Ye sure have sharp claws though." He grinned.

"Did I do that? Oh, I'm very sorry. Here," she held his paw up and looked at it closely, "I think I can help soothe the pain." Flugg would've shaken it off and said it was nothing, but he was secretly quite bashful when it came to talking to girls. "Er… um, thanks." He finally said, not wanting to offend her feeling by refusing.

"E-hem!" Tragg felt his ears began to burn at the sight of the two sitting there so chummy-like. "What' might yer name be by the way?" Tragg asked, tilting his head to the side a little.

"Oh, where are my manners?" She dipped her head politely. "My name is Tilda. What are your names?"

Flugg stood up and gave the fanciest bow that Tragg had ever seen.

"Mae name is Flugg the Strong, th' Wrestling Champion o' th' Northtrekker tribe, at your service."

Tragg inwardly rolled his eyes. _Hmm…someone desperately wants to make a good impression._ The shrew thought sarcastically. "I'm Tragg th' One Eyed. Pleased tae meet ye I'm sure."

Tilda's eyes went wide. "My goodness, you really only have one eye?"

 _What does it look like?_ Tragg wanted to ask, instead, he replied, "Well, I don't exactly wear a cloth tied tae mae head for fun…"

Tilda smacked her paw into her forehead. "Me and my big mouth." She blinked slowly. "I'm sorry. I guess I just didn't think before I spoke…I tend to do that a lot."

"Ach, dinnae worry 'bout it," Tragg grinned. "I'm not _that_ easily offended."

 _She seems well-spoken for a slave,_ Tragg mused, _I wonder how long she's been one._

"Hey! You three, shut up and sit tight!" one of the river-rats snapped as he passed by them. The vermin was in charge of making sure that everything went smoothly on this boat. If he let slaves talk and relax, why, they'd think they were on a pleasure-ride on this river or something!

The three shrews instantly obeyed. Flugg scooted closer to Tilda and rested his paw on her arm. "Don't worry," he said, "we'll all take care of each other."

Flugg's words seemed to spark a something inside of Tilda, and the female shrew scooted away from them a little. Hugging her knees to her chest, she leaned her head on them, her face away from the two boys. "Thanks, but I don't need anybody to take care of me."

Flugg shot Tragg a look and made a gesture that said, what did I say?

Tragg shrugged. _Some creatures are just hard to understand,_ he thought. _Hopefully Tilda will stay friends with us. Besides, if we're going to escape, we'll need all the help we can get._

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 _Footnote: Book III: The Warlord's Might has begun! I wish happy reading to all of you!_

 _~Sebias of Redwall~_


	42. Chapter 41

**Author Note:**

 **This author note will probably be a bit shorter then my normal ones because…well, I** _ **really**_ **need to get this chapter on the road. :-P**

 **Waycaster: Yes, Tragg has now got a crush. Yay! :-P** " **I guess permanent disfigurement is nothing to scoff at" Correct! Though, I'm getting intrigued about which character you mean in ARR… (Hopefully none of my favorite characters. :-P)**

 **The Grey Coincidence: You bet! Grab yer paddles boys 'cause we're going on a boat ride! :-P**

 **("Related to Main Character syndrome") I love it! I think you nailed that one right on the head there, Grey. A serious condition to be sure! XD I guess we'll see if those moles can catch up. (I won't say more on the subject in case I give away any spoilers)**

 **("most shrews can at least do a doggy-paddle") Yes… Well, if I remember correctly, in** _ **Mattimeo,**_ **Cheek the otter was scared to death of water, but yes, once he got in the water he could swim perfectly. Hmm… I think I'll just have to explain why she's so freaked out of water in a one-shot or something. (If I have the time or the energy, I might give her one)**

 **Abrahem: Hey! Thanks for reviewing! I'm glad you're catching up!** **First off, you don't need to apologize for not reviewing right away. Take as long as you need!** **As for who gave Skipper jurisdiction to decide who would go and stay, (Good question by the way) Well, I pretty sure that in times of war, the abbey champion, the skipper, the log-a-logs, and normally any badgers who are present take control for war matters. And in this case, all of my other leaders were either sick, busy, or weren't experienced enough so Skipper kinda assumed control. I guess I could've just had a scene where they elected him to the post but… *Shrugs* Oh well. What's done is done.**

 **Firestar the Warrior: Yes, hopefully she's get a one-shot or something. I have a few ideas but I need to pick one and finally sit down one night and write it. :-P**

 **JP fanfic: Yeah, I had hoped that having Tragg, Flugg, and Dunagan re-captured would catch my readers by surprise.**

 **. 15: Thank you! I'm glad you're still reading!**

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 **NORTHLANDS**

All the slaves had finally been loaded up onto the rafts, canoes, and boats of the river-rat tribe. Bugfoot had taken the lead craft: a long, slim, well-built white boat. It was obvious to Bertvar that Bugfoot and his tribe must have stolen it since he doubted that the rats had the skills to make such a fine craft. Granted, they appeared to be good at making stream-worthy canoes and rafts, but nothing as fancy as the white boat.

Bugfoot had invited Bertvar and his top captains to join him. _The scoundrel probably want's to show off,_ the wolf had thought to himself, but he had accepted politely.

Bugfoot stood on the back of the boat and cupped his paws to his mouth as he yelled out to one of his rats. "Is everythin' ready back there, Macnarsh?"

Macnarsh waved his paddle in the air. "Aye, Chief! Us is ready teh go!"

"Okay then." Bugfoot plopped himself into his seat beside Bertvar. "Let's be off!"

One of the vermin paddlers in front of them suddenly screeched out. A loud whizzing sound was also heard as another one of Bertvar's stoats seemed to lean forward slowly and fell over dead, an arrow shaft protruding from the back of his head.

"We're under attack!" a shrill voice screamed as a volley of short arrows and sling-stones appeared out of nowhere and smacked into the vermin in the boats. Two fell dead and more than three times that number wounded.

"Get t' yer defensive positions!" Bugfoot hollered.

"Get us out of here!" Bertvar yelled out to the river-rat chieftain. The rodent glared at him, pausing from screaming at his rats.

"What do y' _think_ I'm tryin' teh do? Dance a jig? Come on, lads, heave to!"

The northern part of the shore came alive as a party of armored moles came running out of the foliage. Most of them were armed with axes and war-hammers, but a decent amount carried bows and slings.

Bertvar grabbed one of Bugfoot's rats and held him up like a shield as another volley of missiles came crashing down on them once again.

He stared down at the unlucky beast he had chosen to use to protect himself from the arrows. The rat's mouth was red with blood, his eyes glazed over as the wolf saw arrows sticking from his chest.

The tied slaves glanced up hopefully as the saw Lord Nightwrath's warriors. Perhaps they would be able to free them!

"Grunner! Furgly!" Bertvar snapped out, "Grab some of the slaves! Slit their throats if the moles fire another shot!"

The moles on the shore heard his cry, and Tragg and the other slaves' hopes were crushed as they saw the moles slowly cease fire.

"Did you hear that, moles," Bugfoot yelled, "We'll 'ave all of th' slaves killed if yew release so much as one single arrow or rock at us!"

The leader of the mole warriors waved his heavy, double-bladed axe threateningly. "Boi moi gran'farther's teeth, if you'm so much az touch one 'air on them's heads we'll…"

"You'll what?" Bertvar smiled. He knew that he had already won. Woodlanders were always cursed with that thing called "honor". Bertvar stood up a bit more. "Start paddling, troops! Make sure you keep some of those slaves close, preferably the children and the mothers."

The moles on the shore fumed as they were forced to do nothing but watch as the vermin dug their paddles deep into the current and began to make their way to the far end of the river.

There were suddenly a few shouts and the sound of something large splashing into the water.

"What in 'ellgates was that?" one of the vermin called from the lead boat.

"Th' one-eared hedgehog slave got out of his rope somehow an' jumped ship!"

"Get him! Throw somethin' fer pete's sake! Don't let 'im escape!"

As a ferret readied his spear to throw it, a gruff voice shouted from the bank. "If you'm shoot at that there 'edgehog, then oi'm gonna order moi molers to attack, hurr aye!"

The ferret and the other vermin froze and glanced over to Bertvar. The wolf saw that the hedgehog slave had already made it almost to shore where the mole warriors stood with their weapons at ready.

"Hmm… Put your weapons down!" Bertvar ordered to his slavers. "It's only one slave. Let's get out of here before more of those pesky moles show up. – Wouldn't want to have to explain this awkward situation to Lord Nightwrath himself or anything."

Amongst the other chained slaves, Tragg, Flugg and Tilda, along with all the other slaves, were trying to figure out what was all happening.

"I think Dunagan is th' one who's getting away!" Tragg said joyfully, keeping his voice low to not attract attention.

"Who is Dunagan?" Tilda asked, "is he the beast who…" She hesitated and shivered. "Who lost his ear?"

"Aye, that's 'im," Flugg told Tilda. "If he escapes, maybe th' moles will bring him back tae Lord Nightwrath, an' if he sees Rones, Rosebud, or Elmblade, he can tell 'em that we're okay!"

"But _are_ we okay?" Tragg asked, glancing around. "I mean, did ye both hear what the Slavemaster said? If th' moles follow us or try tae free us, then Bertvar will order his troops tae start butchering all o' th' slaves … 'n' that includes us!"

"Well, we'll jus' 'ave tae 'ope for th' best." Flugg shrugged his shoulders. "An' besides, I don't think mae dad would give up so easily, or Rosebud for that matter. I mean, come on, they're our kin! I'm sure they'll do th' best they can."

Tilda turned to look at the vermin surrounding them, armed to the teeth with weapons of all kinds. "Hmm… Let' just hope that if your friends try to free you both that they'll get it right the first time. I doubt they'll ever get a second chance."

They continued to watch in silence as the boats and rafts paddled as fast as they could down the river, leaving the mole warriors to rescue the escaped hedgehog from the river. Tragg leaned up and managed to catch one more glimpse of them before the raft he was on turned and went around a bend in the river, the trees blocking him from seeing any more of them.

 _I haven't met this Lord Nightwrath creature yet,_ Tragg thought to himself, _but I pray that he hurries. If not, we might be slaves for the rest of our lives._

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After four days of paddling non-stop down the river, Chief Bugfoot and Bertvar decided they were safe enough to stop and dump the water from the bottom of their boats. A few of the smaller canoes had been lost in the largest of the rapids, along with two rats and six slaves who were unfortunate enough to either drown or bash their heads against some of the rocks jutting out of the swirling rapids. With Bugfoot's rats and Bertvar's vermin each taking turns at sleeping and paddling, they had finally put what they thought was, a considerable gap between them and any of their pursuers.

"It should only take us about roughly six or seven more days until we reach th' Western Shores," Bugfoot had said, "as long as we keep this pace, that is."

Bertvar had said that it wouldn't hurt for them to take a little break. The vermin were even allowed to start a few campfires on shore so they could have a hot (If not a surprisingly good) meal for a change. While they had been on the move, most of the slavers and river-rats had to make due with un-cooked vittles and water from the fast-moving river.

Of course, the slaves stayed tied on the boats. The Slavemaster wanted to be ready at a moment's notice so he left half of his slavers on the boats to guard the woodlanders and to keep an eye out, while the other half had the task of cooking and eating – the latter easily being the better out of the two. If the guards on the rafts were lucky, one of the captains would hopefully order somebeast to bring them out food, but chances of that were slim … even more so for the slaves.

"Ach, tha' food over there sure looks good." Tragg said as he licked his lips while he and his comrades stared hungrily at the cooking fires on shore. "I wonder if we'll even get th' scraps. It doesnae look like there will be much leftovers wit' th' way that lot is eatin' it. Yew'd think _they_ were th' ones who are half-starved."

"That's the life of a slave, Tragg." Tilda shrugged. "You'd better get used to it."

"Ye know, that reminds me…" Flugg gazed at the female shrew curiously. "'Ow long 'ave _ye_ been a slave?" As Tilda's face turned into a frown at the question, he quickly added, "Don't tell us if ye don't want tae."

Tilda's eyes softened briefly. "Thank you. Though, if it's all the same to you, I'd rather not talk about my past life."

The silence following her statement was deafening.

 _This got rather awkward…_ Tragg, desperate to change the conversation, gazed around until something of interest caught his eye. "I say, it looks like some o' th' vermin are bringin' their pals some food."

The other two turned to where he was looking. A dozen or so rats were hauling over wooden trays full of food to the creatures on the boat. The guards would argue and fight over who would get what, and as it turned out, most of the bigger and stronger of the vermin got the good pickings.

A scrawny rat, his arms carrying a tray apiece, walked over to the moored raft where Tragg, Tilda, and Flugg were. Just like on the other boats, there was a brief scuffle, then the eight vermin and river-rats guarding them sat down and began to eat.

"Look at those brutes," Tilda hissed, glaring at their captors. "Some of the scum are letting their food fall into the river! They could've given those pieces of scrap to us slaves!"

Just as she said that, two weasels who had already grabbed their food, sat down right in front of the three slaves, effectively silencing whatever Tilda was going to say next. If you valued your ears it was wise to not complain too much within your captors' hearing.

One of the weasels was ranting quietly to his companion, who Tragg recognized as the one they called Grunner. "Well I don't see why 'ee has t' be th' one shoutin' out orders an' actin' all high an' mighty –"

"Keep yer voice down, yew fool," Grunner hissed. The weasel nodded his head to the other guards. "Not so loud."

Tragg eyed the plates of food that the two vermin had set down. Though it wasn't much, it was better than nothing. A lot better.

"Psst, Tilda, Flugg," Tragg whispered, nodding his head toward the plates. "I've got an idea…"

000000000000000

The two weasels that were sitting not far from Tragg and the other two slaves kept their voices low as they conversed.

Grunner the weasel had been annoyed the entire trip. The slaver captain knew next to nothing about handling boats. Furgly on the other paw was in his element, giving orders left and right and making sure they were carried out. Grunner had glumly noticed that Bertvar himself had started treating Furgly like his second-in-command.

The weasel, of course, wasn't a captain for nothing. He planned to do something about this "upstart fox" and began by finding other vermin who were getting sick of Furgly.

"Well, are ye gonna _do_ somethin' 'bout 'im?" a weasel, known by his fellow slavers as Barktail, asked.

Grunner glanced around a bit before replying. "I jus' migh' be thinkin' of…takin' care of our dear friend Furgly." He smirked. "Even 'ee would 'ave to admit that his looks would improve with a knife stickin' out of his throat. Don't ya agree?"

"Hur hur," Barktail chuckled, "Tha' is a pretty picture to imagine. Jus' remember, when he's dead 'n' yew become Bertvar's right-claw-beast, yew'll make sure I'll become a captain, right?"

Grunner shrugged his shoulders innocently. "I'll try … though it will be kinda 'ard. Bert doesn't exactly hand out promotions like he does punishments… But I'll see wha' I can do."

Barktail nodded his head. "That's all I need t' hear. Now, should I get some of th' other boys an' – 'Ey! Shove off!"

Two young male shrews had suddenly crashed into Barktail's back, they were both fighting tooth and claw as they spit out insults to each other.

"Ye fat, ugly, worm-brained dirt-clod!"

"Ach! We'll ye're one tae talk! Ye've got th' brain o' a flea 'n' a belly the size o' a seal!"

Grunner jumped up from where he was sitting and grabbed one of them by the shoulders and shook him roughly. "'Ey! Calm down or I'll rip yer arms off!"

The other slave's footpaws were tangled up in the rope that was meant to keep him from straying far from the edge of the boat where it was tied. The shrew however kept yelling as he struggled to wiggle his way free.

"I'll slam your 'ead intae th' bottom o' th' boat! I'm gonna rip your ears out an' –"

Barktail had set down his plate of food and, leaping forward, jumped on the struggling shrew and tried to hold him still.

"Darn," Barktail spat, "He's as slippery as a bloody fish!"

Once both of the shrews had calmed down, Grunner grabbed both of them by an ear, and growled, spitting in the chubbier one's face. "Listen, yew plank-tailed sons of woodlander fish-brains, I don't wanna know why yew were fightin', just shut up an' keep still. Am I clear?!"

The two shrews nodded their heads so fast that Grunner was sure that they'd rattle the little brains that they had.

"Alright then," the weasel continued on, sniffing his nose in disgust, "be off with yew! Sit still on yer end of the raft, an' if I so much as 'ear another peep…"

"We'll be good, sir, honest!"

"Aye, we'll stay put an' keep quiet, or mae name isn't Flugg."

Grunner spat once more and let go of them both. The slaves scurried back and sat down next to a pretty looking female shrew who was sitting innocently, watching with wide, curious eyes.

Barktail and Grunner both decided that it would be a good idea to find a better spot to make their plans. As Grunner picked up his plate of food, he had a strange thought. _Hmm… That's odd… I thought I had a lot more food on my plate then this…_ The weasel shrugged it off and followed Barktail to the far, far end of the raft. He couldn't resist a smirk. _Huh, no wonder it's so easy to take woodlanders as slaves. They're so stupid it's almost sad._

000000000000000

"Ha, they didnae suspect a thing!" Flugg said triumphantly as he slipped a morsel of the chunky food into his mouth. "I 'ave tae admit that this plan o' yours worked fairly well. Heh, that's a first."

Tragg grinned. "What are ye talkin' about? Don't mae plans always work?" He held up a claw quickly before Flugg could reply. "On second thought, don't answer that. Hmm…" The shrew rubbed a bruise on his head thoughtfully. "I kinda wish we could've thought o' a … less painful wave of distracting 'em while Tilda grabbed their food."

"I got to say," Tilda said as she slipped Tragg another piece from the bread that they had swiped from Grunner, "your fighting looked quite real."

"Heh, it _felt_ pretty real." Tragg said. He pointed at Flugg. "Remind me tae never get in another wrestling match wit' ye. Ye made me remember why ye were the clan's wrestling champion back 'ome."

Tilda raised her eyebrows. "Flugg was a wrestling champion in your clan? That's neat! Did you ever try to wrestle Flugg for the championship?"

Tragg ignored Flugg as the shrew let out an amused chuckle and instead replied, "Well…" Tragg said, "We used to play-fight a lot when we were younger, but once we got bigger ... Let's just say that he could flatten shrews a full head taller than him, an' could spin circles around me. Or more correctly, could spin me in circles."

"Eh," Flugg smiled. "Ye're not _that_ bad. Ye're jus' being modest." He winked to Tilda. "Tragg's jus' makin' me sound good. Why, I recall a time when –" Flugg fell silent as the raft suddenly moved as the vermin began to push it off of the shore.

"I guess we're going," Flugg said, stating the obvious.

"Yeah…" Tilda sat up to keep her balance as the slavers and the river-rats heaved and jerked to move the raft into the deeper part of the river. "We'll probably get more food if they feed the rest of the slaves as we go down stream."

Moments later, all of the boats had pushed off and were once again paddling down the river that would lead them to their destination.


	43. Chapter 42

**Author Note:**

 **Waycaster: Heh, I think that if I named my chapters, I'd probably have this one called "The Big Boat Ride" XD I'm glad you like the vermin! I had always liked the vermin in the Redwall books. I normally like cool bad guys, especially ones with good character development. You know, after I had Grunner saying how "Woodlanders are so stupid" I had been tempted to make the next segment with Tragg telling the others how stupid vermin are. XD It was funny to write, so I'm glad you enjoyed it!**

 **JP fanfic: Askarr is a pretty funny guy to write! I'm glad you liked him. I wanted to make him seem fierce, but at the same time, funny, so hence his big speech about crushing the new invaders. XD I like your idea of having the crows tying their beaks shut. It's a hilarious picture to envision! XD**

 **The Grey Coincidence: Weeeeell, believe it or not, I had meant to make the last author note shorter, but I had gotten caught up in all of the replying. XD What an interesting theory. After all, what does Lord Nightwrath stand to gain from running/sailing across the sea for a few slaves? But, like you said, he /is/ a badgerlord, so he has a reputation to live up to.**

 **And yes, I agree with you that a character shouldn't just be introduced as a love interest. I do have plans to develop her, but I guess she'll just have to wait for the next Northland chapter, or her one-shot, whichever comes first. (I'm actually a rather excited for her one-shot, I have a few ideas…) Though, I still do have a lot of characters I need to develop more, so… We'll see.**

 **You know, if Flugg was human sized, I could actually really see him wrestling goats for some reason. (He probably wouldn't be able to find a different wrestling partner. XD) Why do you ask?**

 **And yes, I guess you could say** _ **The Unbroken**_ **is sorta on hiatus. Though, funny coincidence, I'll actually probably update it in a few days.**

 **Firestar the Warrior: Correct! Teamwork saved the day! Huzzah!** **And yes, you're correct again, Dunagan** _ **did**_ **escape. Hopefully he bumps into Rones, Rosebud, and Elmblade.**

 **Abrahem: I like weasels too! I'm not sure if you read** _ **Salamandastron**_ **yet but I really like the main two weasel villains in that one.** **But yes, being the food lover I am, wasting food is a serious crime in my opinion. :-P**

000000000000000

 **SALAMANDASTRON**

 _I'm really beginning to wonder where this 'secret place' is that Lagworth is taking me…_ Charlie thought to himself as he followed Lagworth down one of Salamandastron's many tunnels. The larger hare had ignored Charlie whenever he tried to pry a bit more of information out of him. All that Charlie knew was that wherever this place was, Lagworth was keeping a very tight lip about it.

 _I wonder why he thinks showing me this blooming place of his will make things better all of a sudden._ Charlie practically had to hop along as he kept with the Lagworth's pace. He mentally shrugged. Whatever it was, apparently Lagworth thought it was very important that he saw it for himself. Who knew? Maybe it really _was_ something that Charlie would find astonishing or useful. Hopefully it was going to be worth the long walk…

"Do you jolly-well think we could take a little ol' break, Lagworth me chappie?" Charlie asked, "I mean, I still 'aven't had breakfast yet, an' my bloody ol' stomach feels … well, peckish, to say the least."

"Ah, I'm sure you'll be fine. It'll be worth it once we get there," Lagworth replied, slapping Charlie on the back as the younger cadet caught up. "Besides, we're not that far away. We should be there in just a few more bloomin' seconds. Wot wot."

Onward they went.

As Charlie went around another bend, he let his paw slide along the tunnel wall. It was so smooth. He wondered if it had always had been like that. He knew that Salamandastron had once been an active volcano, with tunnels filled with flowing magma, but did the magma make the walls almost perfectly arched and smooth? Charlie was interrupted from his musings as Lagworth stopped walking and hesitantly turned to him.

"Say… Charlie," Lagworth rubbed the back of his neck, "You wouldn't have happened to ever hear of the sickness called the Darkdeath, have ya?"

 _Why the fur is he asking me about bloody sicknesses? I'm no healer!_ Charlie thought. "Um… No, Lagworth, can't say I have. Sorry."

"Hmm… no matter. Forget I asked."

There was another silence as they continued.

Charlie was relieved when Lagworth finally stopped at the entrance of one of the many, unused, empty rooms that Salamandastron had. He guessed that they were roughly at ground level, though he wasn't completely sure since he had never been to this part of the mountain before in all of the fifteen seasons that he had lived there.

"Is this the place?" he asked.

Lagworth shook his head and opened the door. "No, but we're very, _very_ close. Believe me I took the fastest way here. Once you see what I have to show you, I'll lead you right back up to the Mess Hall and you can eat your jolly breakfast."

Something just didn't sit well in Charlie's gut. There was something fishy going on, but what? Charlie knew that it would be smarter, a _lot_ smarter in fact, if he'd just turn around and march right back up the tunnel, no matter what Lagworth promised. However… curiosity is a powerful thing, and sometimes, it can make a beast a little more reckless.

 _I need to stop being so suspicious._ Charlie thought to himself. _Maybe that's what Lagworth had needed all along, somebeast to give him a chance._ "…Okay."

The big hare nodded. Walking through the door the two of them made their way through the room until they were right beside a small, narrow window that overlooked the northern part of the shore. In the center of the small room there was a table and a couple of wooden stools. Charlie guessed that they hadn't been used in a long while since they were covered with dust.

Lagworth suddenly went over and pulled out a long, thick rope from behind the door and threw one end out of the window, the other end tightly held in his paw.

Charlie gulped as he leaned his head out the window. His earlier estimation about being at ground-level was proved wrong. They were three of four stories high. _If Lagworth thinks I'm gonna climb down and risk breaking my neck, he's got another thing coming. I stood for this charade for too long!_ He cleared his throat. "Ahem, Lagworth my chap, I'm afraid I remembered something that I've gotta do. It's quite urgent."

Lagworth merely ignored him as he tied the end of the rope to an iron spike driven into the wall beside the window. After he was done, he walked past Charlie until he was in between him and the door.

His eyes seemed to briefly flicker with guilt as he saw Charlie's surprised face.

"I'm sorry, but it's either you or me … an' out of the two of us, I'd rather have it be you."

Charlie started to back up as the bigger hare began to move toward him, his paws clenched.

"Wait. What? Lagworth, what are you doing? Did you seriously just drag me down here to try to beat me up again?"

Lagworth shook his head, and Charlie could almost see a hint of sadness in his eyes. His heart skipped a beat. If he was just going to beat him again, the bully wouldn't've had second thoughts about the matter… But if even Lagworth of all hares was about to regret doing something... Charlie shuddered to think.

Charlie decided he didn't want to find out what that was. He made a feint to the left, and when Lagworth moved to intercept him, he jumped as far as he could toward the right. As the bully tried to regain his footing, Charlie pushed him forward with both paws, knocking him off of his footpaws and pushing him into the wooden table.

Just as he started to believe that he'd actually make it to the door, he felt a paw suddenly grab his foot and the young hare went sprawling. Before he could get up, Lagworth was already on top of him.

"I'm sorry 'bout this, chap…" were the last words that Charlie heard, before Lagworth leaned over and grabbed one of the stools by the upturned table, and used it hit Charlie's head. Everything seemed to grow foggy as he struggled to free himself. Then, it all went black.

000000000000000

 **SALAMANDASTRON'S NORTHERN SHORE**

Blue-Eyes had been sharpening his long, thin sword when a searat bearing a message came running up to him.

"Sir, we spotted tha' hare you were tellin' us 'bout! It looks like he's carrying somebeast on 'is back."

The weasel stopped what he was doing and held his sword up, letting the morning sun bounce of its shiny blade. "Good. Now, could anybeast see if he was being followed? We wouldn't want him to lead a group of those Long Patrollers to us or anything, now would we?"

The searat shook his head. "No, sir, nobeast in sight besides 'im."

"Hmm, let's go say hello to our guest then."

Blue-Eyes and his group of ten corsairs and vermin had snuck in closer to the mountain's base. While Baro Steelclaws' forces were formed in a large circle around Salamandastron, the hares inside had posted most of their sentries on the southern side where the gates were. It had been easier than Blue-Eyes had first thought to sneak up to the large outcrop of rocks. Of course, his job had been made a _lot_ less difficult since he had forced Lagworth to give out all of the positions of the guards on the north side.

 _I do hope that buffoon of a hare brings somebeast important as a hostage._ Blue-Eyes thought, marking Lagworth's progress down the mountainside. _If not, things are going to be quite miserable for him._

He climbed down from the large rock as Lagworth finally arrived, Charlie slung over his back. Even though he was big for a hare, Lagworth had found it extremely difficult tying the unconscious hare to the rope, and lowering him from the window. Then, after he had also climbed down, he had carried him across the uneven mountain slope. In short, he was exhausted.

"Could… Could one of ya chaps lend a fellow a drink please?" Lagworth gasped, plopping down onto the ground as two rats came and lifted the still-unconscious Charlie off of him. The rest of the vermin surrounded him and one, a white female rat, scoffed at Lagworth.

"What's th' matter, bunny? Can't you rabbits do anythin' without getting' tired out?"

Lagworth turned red as the vermin around him started to laugh at the rat's taunt. Pretending to laugh along, he grinned. "Well, we ' _bunnies_ ' might not be that good at carrying stuff down a steep slope, but is sure seems like we can do a good job of beatin' th' snot out of vermin. Wot wot. Hahaha!"

He realized that it probably wasn't a good time to be making insults when the corsairs and ermine snarled their teeth and began to mutter oaths. Some of them had lost companions to Lord Rockfur and his fearsome fighters in bygone battles.

They all fell silent as Blue-Eyes walked out from the shadow of a large rock and swung his sword slowly. "Well, well, well. I'm pleased that you showed up, mister Lagworth. Forgive my underlings if they seem a tad rude, they've never seen a live hare before this close without it trying to stick them through with a lance."

Lagworth waved a paw dismissively. "Ah, whatever. Now, wot 'bout that jolly' ol' antidote for that Darkdeath sickness, eh, wot? I did what you asked: I got you a hostage, the son of the head colonel none-the-less! If it's all the same to you I'd like to just take what's due and tiddly-doo off back home. Wot wot."

Blue-Eye kept swinging his long sword in circles, he went faster and faster until it was a blur in his paws. Then without warning, he drove the point deep into the ground beside Lagworth's footpaws. As the hare scrambled back, the weasel smiled.

"Hmm… I wish all of the hares in Salamandastron where as smart – or more correctly, as dumb – as you are, Lagworth. If they were, capturing the mountain fortress would be as easy as stealing a cake from a baby." He shrugged. "You will do."

"Um… I don't understand…"

"Of course you don't, my boy, of course you don't. You see, there is a terrible irony to the situation. Do you know what that is, hare?"

Lagworth started to back up, but then he felt a cutlass press lightly on his back. _That liar! He said he'd give me the antidote! I'm going to slowly die because of this, this…lying, two-faced vermin!_ He looked back at Blue-Eyes and saw that the weasel was grinning. The hare tried to talk his way out one more time. "Could you please give me the herbs, sir? I … I don't want to bloody-well die. If you give it to me, I'll do anythin' you ask –" He broke off as Blue-Eyes' threw back his head and started to laugh.

…Um, What's so funny?"

The weasel finally got control of his merriment. Brushing a paw over his eyes, he replied,  
"Oh, you poor idiot. Exactly how many times were you dropped on your head as a leveret? There is no antidote! The whole Darkdeath nonsense was made up."

Lagworth practically fell over backward. "What? H-how is that… You tricked me!"

"Which, I must admit, any beast with half a grain of sense could do, but yes, I did. And you fell for it, line, hook and sinker." He turned around and made a gesture to his ten corsairs. "Tie and gag him. Bring both of them and follow me." To himself, he added, "It'll be rather fun showing Baro Steelclaws how a _real_ battle commander gets things done."

000000000000000

 **SALAMANDASTRON'S SOUTHERN SHORE**

Emperor Baro Steelclaws and Captain Hookarm both stood side by side as they watched their combined forces clambering up the slope of the mountain, some releasing arrows and some digging trenches into the hard, rocky surface.

"Well, it's slow going, but at least it's going somewhere," the wolverine king said, his arms crossed on his massive, broad chest. "Let's hope that Blue-Eyes' mission was successful. What do you think, Hookarm?"

The rat captain stroked his arm-hook as he replied, "Don't worry yerself, I know Blue-Eyes too well t' think that he'd fail. There _is_ a reason why Bloodfur sent 'im with me."

"Really? I'm surprised that your king would think that you'd need help with this operation." Baro smiled. He knew he had struck a nerve when the rat remained silent. In the short time that he had been around Hookarm, he had realized that the rat had a hunger for power that rivaled his own. He could tell that the rat wasn't too pleased with Blue-Eyes constantly showing him up. Maybe the wolverine would be able to use Hookarm's jealousy in the future…

Hookarm finally let out a snort. "Yer troops are definitely takin' their bloody time with their advance. Why don't ya tell 'em t' pick up th' pace, instead of just 'aving 'em sliding across the ground like snails?"

Now it was Baro's turn to be annoyed. "You know what, maybe _you_ should go down there and lead them." He added sarcastically, "I'm sure with an able commander like you they'd be able to take the mountain in a flash."

It seemed that Hookarm had totally missed the emperor's sarcasm. The rat slowly nodded his head. "You know, maybe ye're right fer once. I think that's what I'll do."

Hookarm snapped his claws and his company of searat bodyguards all snapped to attention and followed him as he started to walk toward the sounds of the fighting.

"And what do you think you're doing?" Baro asked, puzzled.

"It's 'bout time somebeast won this war, an' I'm th' one t' do it."

Baro Steelclaws shook his head as he watched the pirates leave. He'd probably lose a few hundred soldiers if Hookarm led them in a large-scale attack, but who knew, maybe they'd be able to inflict damage on the defenders, or even fight their way through an opening. The emperor grinned. Even if it all failed, it would almost be worth it to see the look on Hookarm's face.

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The hares defending the mountain immediately noticed the change in the attacking vermin troops. When the white-furred ermine and foxes stopped their slow advance, some of the younger and less experienced hare cadets had started to whoop and holler that the enemy had been defeated. They soon learned that they were wrong.

Urthblaze had wanted to help in the fighting somehow. Yet, since the enemy had only stayed on the bottom half of the mountain slope, where they dug trenches and shot arrows back at the hares on the crater, he obviously wouldn't be able to help by fighting in paw-to-paw combat. Instead, Colonel Brewster had suggested that the young badger could help carry sling stones, throwing spears, and quivers of arrows for the archers.

As he carried a load of full quivers in his arms, he passed by the long line of Long Patroller archers that were standing in a row on the crater. From way up here, it was difficult for the hares to shoot accurately, yet Urthblaze had heard one of the officers say that as long as they unified their shots into volleys, it wouldn't really matter how accurate they were. Chances were, if one arrow didn't find a vermin, a different one would.

A grey hare veteran turned and gave Urthblaze a whistle as he saw the badger walk by with his load.

"Hey there, Urthblaze me chappie, could I have one of those blinkin' quivers?" he asked, "I'm practically all out. Wot wot?"

Urthblaze smiled slightly and nodded, letting one of the pouches of arrows fall to the ground by the soldier's footpaws so he could grab them. In the time that he had been at Salamandastron, he had grown to respect every single one of the members of the Long Patrol. The hares in turn had welcomed him as a kindred spirit: a warrior born. He had become good friends with quite a few of them, especially the younger ones that were around his age. (Though nowhere near his size) Creatures his own age had been scarce where he had come from, and the badger thoroughly enjoyed their company.

"How's the fighting going, sir?" he asked the grey hare.

The old veteran had already notched an arrow to his longbow's string and pulled it back half-way as he waited for the commander to give the order to release.

"Sorry, chap, I'm a little busy at the moment –" he broke off as he and his fellow archers all heard the barking sound from one of the captains to shoot. As one, they all released their arrows, making it appear that a small dark cloud was plummeting down into the vermin ranks far below. A small dark cloud made of deadly arrows, that is.

Urthblaze shrugged as he realized that a battle wasn't exactly a place for needless chit-chat. He went on, keeping his head low in case vermin arrows made it all the way up to the mountain's crater. Once he had passed out all of the fresh bundles of arrows, he poked his head over the crater wall and tried to see how the skirmish was faring for his self. He was surprised at what he saw: the white mass of vermin had stopped. It appeared that there was some confusion in the center, where a large group of searat reinforcements had arrived. The front ranks had formed a shield wall, and the archers behind them kept up a steam of shafts. Most of the missiles didn't even make it to the crater, but that was to be expected since they were armed with standard bows. The Long Patrol on the other paw had the luxury of powerfully-built longbows.

Urthblaze could see bodies of dead vermin in the wake of the army's advance. Even though he couldn't see them quite clearly since he was so high up, he could well imagine that it had been the hares' steady stream of missiles that brought them down.

His eyes suddenly noticed that the vermin around the new group of rats were beginning to shout out and clash their weapons on their shields at the same time. Then, like a huge tidal wave, they broke into a full-blown charge.

"What th' devil do those bloody vermin jolly-well think they're doing?" a voice cried out not far from Urthblaze. All the Long Patrollers were confused at this turn of events.

"Should somebeast send for Lord Rockfur? Wot?"

"Raise the alarm! Send for his lordship! Tell 'im we're under a full-scale attack!" a sergeant bellowed.

One of the cadets, who was well known for having a strong lack of common sense, held up a paw. "But it's not a full-scale attack, sarge. Look, only two or three thousand are attacking. It looks like the rest on the shore are content to sit and watch."

The sergeant turned and gave the cadet a stare that would've burned a hole through a mushroom flan. "What do you mean 'only two or three thousand'?! Who cares 'ow blinkin' many there are? We're under attack! Go tell Lord Rockfur!"

Orders were once again snapped out, and the near-panicking archers all did their best to stay calm. As the shooting resumed, it was slightly less effective since some of the more nervous soldiers had fumbled and dropped their arrows in their haste. Some of them hadn't even _seen_ a large battle with more than a few hundred beasts, much less _been_ in one. The sight of the two thousand vermin charging was terrifying!

"I guess I'd better get me a weapon," Urthblaze mumbled excitingly to himself, "I'm going to need it if things go ugly." The young badger turned and ran over to the stairway entrance. _Finally! I'm going to get a chance to avenge my grandpa! I'll have those vermin trembling in their boots by the time I'm done with them._


	44. Chapter 43

**Author Note:**

 **Waycaster: Yup, all beasts get their due, including traitors. (Who am I kidding, I mean** _ **especially**_ **traitors)**

 **You raise some very good points about medieval war tactics. A full assault without enough numbers could be a BIG disaster. Then again, like you pointed out, maybe Baro** _ **wants**_ **the attack to fail. But… 'why would he?' would be the question.**

 **Elvish Kiwi's favorite sister: Goodness, so many reviews! I'm not sure where to start! Thanks!** **The shrews' accents are probably some of my favorite ones to write, though when I had first started writing, any and all accents were hard to do. It's rather funny that I had started my first book with a bunch of guys with thick accents…**

 **Thank you for reviewing! May your dinners never grow cold! (Unless of course it is something like ice cream. XD)**

 **The Grey Coincidence: I know right? Poor Charlie. XD Chances are, the 'smoothness of the walls part' was more of me just randomly describing something for the heck of it. However, I say "chances are" because, well, I like to appear mysterious and make my readers see if there is something hidden in the wordplay or something. XD Even though … you seem to guess most of the plot twists anyway, you little detective you. XD**

' **Served up to Baro" eh? Well, that** _ **is**_ **actually a pretty good guess for reasons that you already stated. (Lagworth doesn't have** _ **that**_ **much worth to them, and he has a pretty big mouth sometimes… so who knows, maybe there will be hare stew for lunch.)**

 **Abrahem: I agree. Hypocritical weakness is** _ **definitely**_ **not the** __ **thing to have when you are surrounded by vermin who would chuck you in the sea for two cents. :-P (I guess nobeast taught him that though… which is … unlucky. XD)**

 **Did you like the First Redwall audio book? I've actually only listened to a few. (I've read all of 'em though) Maybe one day I should reserve some of the audio books from our library. Who was your favorite voice?**

 **JP fanfic: Yes, Lagworth is officially the worst at apologies. XD I try to throw in some good old humor if I can, so I'm glad you liked 'em.**

000000000000000

 **THE ROGUE CREW CAVES**

Sergeant One-Ear had been waiting patiently in the Healer's Cave for only half of an hour when Keva Strongbow came back, carrying a long bundle wrapped in a cloth. The young otter was alone this time, One-Ear observed.

"Well?" One-Ear asked, "What did your jolly ol' father say about me accompanying you all when you march out for Salamandastron? Wot?"

Keva hesitated and set the bundle down on the floor beside his bed, whatever was in it made a loud clacking noise like wood. "Th' good news is that my father, Chief Bonecrusher, has declared that y' may accompany us if y' wish…"

"An' the bad news?"

Keva quietly drew in a deep breath. Keeping a neutral face, she replied stiffly, looking straight forward. "Chief Bonecrusher says that y' must stay in the rearguard until th' main part of th' fighters beat a way into Salamandastron."

One-Ear was silent for a few seconds, then the hare nodded his head slowly. "Alright, I can live with that … for now at least." He slowly sat up in his bed, his paw resting on his injured leg. He winced. "Well, I guess I'd better get these jolly ol' bones of mine stretched out then. Wot wot. Where is Private Snowpetal, if I may jolly-well ask?"

"Last I checked she was brushing up on her fighting techniques with a few of our warriors."

One-Ear nodded. "Ah, good, true Long Patrol material that one. She might even become of officer one day. Ahem, where was I?… Oh yes, I can't seem to find my weapons anywhere in here. Wot wot. Would you mind being a kind ol' beam an' please find out where your bloomin' clanmates put 'em?

"I'll ask around. But remember, Chief Askarr said that you won't _be_ in any fightin', end of story."

"I'll be sure to put that under jolly thoughtful consideration, m'gal."

Keva rolled her eyes skyward and let out a sigh. "Warriors must be th' same everywhere. As a fellow fighter, I understand what ya are going through… Though, I have to say, it would be better if you just followed th' Chief's orders."

"Yeah, sure, me otter chappie, I'll… try."

The female otter rolled her eyes a second time. "Uh-huh, ' _try_ ' being th' key word I suppose?" Keva reached down and picked up the wrapped bundle from the ground and handed it to One-Ear. "'Ere," she said, "It's a gift from Chief Bonecrusher. I thought I'd give it ye after I told ye th' news."

One-Ear wasn't sure what to say as he unrolled the cloth off of the bundle. They were the finest pair of crutches he had ever seen. There were skillfully carved designs on the wood: tiny pictures of waves crashing into a shoreline on one side, and otters armed to the teeth with axes and shields prepared for battle on the other. He peered closer and saw the amazing detail that went into each one. Somebeast had been very good at his craft.

"I… I don't bally know what t' say…" One-Ear said incredulously, "This is a fine gift indeed! I shall try to put 'em to jolly good use before my leg heals. Who made these beauties?"

"A hedgehog called Oak the Carpenter," She replied, "He an' his wife had owed our clan a favor, an' at th' time, Chief Askarr's leg was injured by an arrow wound, not unlike yours. Th' hedgehogs 'ad given 'im the crutches 'n' then left fer whatever land they 'ad been traveling to."

One-Ear grinned. "So I have a gift that's fit for a bloomin' chieftain, eh? Wot wot."

"Yes, I guess ye could say that." She narrowed her eyes with a mock seriousness as she added, "Just make sure ye don't break 'em over some vermin's 'ead." She turned and began to walk back toward the cave door. "I should probably go. We need t' leave by noon, so I'm going to 'elp my father t' get th' last bits of preparation done."

"Thank you, m'gal," One-Ear bowed his head. "I'll be ready in a jiff, but first," he leaned his head back on his pillow and closed his eyes. "I'll be a jolly well-behaved lad an' take a wee snooze. Wot wot."

000000000000000

 **SALAMANDASTRON**

Lord Rockfur was busy in his forge when he heard an urgent knock on his door. He opened it to see Colonel Brewster's breathless face.

"Ahem, sah, those vermin are charging up the bally slope. Wot."

The Badger Lord quickly threw on a shirt of chainmail and grabbed his broadsword. "Are they attacking with their full forces, Colonel?"

"No, sah," came the breathless reply, "I hear that there's no more than twenty-five hundred of the blighters. They still outnumber us by quite a few, but I guess it could be worse."

They both ran down the hallway, Brewster trying his best to keep up with his Badger Lord.

"I almost forgot to inform you, sah," the old hare panted, "I told the other officers to meet on the crater. That way, we could be close at paw if the vermin make nit to the crater top, but we can still discuss exactly want we're going to do. Wot wot."

Rockfur grunted in reply. "I'm not sure there is much to discuss. We just need to make sure those vermin regret trying to assault Salamandastron."

When they finally arrived at the crater top, almost the entire Long Patrol had gathered to their positions. Some guarding windows, while most of the other crowded behind the crater's edge, clinging to their weapons grimly as they waited to see if the tide of vermin could climb and claw their way to the top of the mountain. The vermin were still at the lower half of the mountain, the arrows and the steep slope were proving to be a tad too difficult for them to keep up their wild charge. Instead, they continued up at a slower pace, giving the defenders a lull in which they could hopefully use to prepare and to make plans.

As Colonel Brewster followed Rockfur to the other officers, he caught a glimpse of Amber among the other Long Patrollers that were scattered behind the crater wall. She was alone. _That's strange. Charlie and her are normally inseparable…_ Brewster tried to recall if he had seen Charlie at all that morning. He normally never ate with his son, his duties were normally far too pressing, even in the early morning, yet it was odd that he couldn't remember seeing him at least once in the Mess Hall, or anywhere else for that matter since dawn. After all, the mountain was only so big… He should've at least caught a glimpse of him _somewhere_.

"Could you excuse me for a moment, sah?" Colonel Brewster asked.

The Badger Lord looked like he would have preferred it far more if his right-paw beast stayed by his side, but decided to trust the colonel. Rockfur nodded. "Alright. Just make sure its quick. We _are_ under attack after all."

"Right, sah. Thank you, sah. I'll be back in a few spiffing moments, sah. Wot wot."

Brewster ran over to where Amber was positioned. The young cadet scooted over to give him some room behind the parapet, her eyes looking at him questionably.

"Sah, do you want something? Wot?" she asked, tilting her head to the side slightly.

"Yes, m'lass, I want t' know if you've seen Charlie at all this flipping morning. Is he on his jolly way up here?"

"Um… No, sah, can't say I've seen him. I thought he would've been with you." Seeing the worried expression on Brewster's face when he heard her words, Amber asked, "Why? Is he missing, sah?"

"Eh? Wot was that, gal? Oh, um…" Brewster slowly shook his head to clear his mind. "Nah, it's probably nothing that you need to worry about, m'dear. Though just in case I think I might send a few of the other cadets to look for him. I'm sure he's somewhere around here. Wot wot."

"Um… If you say so, sah. Let me know as soon as you find him please. Actually, scratch that," Amber straightened up as she asked, "Would you mind sending me to look for him? I'd like to make sure that he's alright."

"That's…actually not a bad idea. Thank you." Brewster cleared his throat. "Right then. Hop to it, gal, we're in th' middle of a siege here, report back once you get word."

"Sure thing, sah."

Brewster smiled as he watched her run off. _Well she seems like a nice gal._

Lord Rockfur and the other commanders were all discussing plans as Brewster came back to where they were all huddled in a circle. They all paused as they waited for the Colonel to take his place. Brewster slipped in between Urthblaze and Rockfur. The Badger Lord glanced at him, his eyebrow raised.

"Is anything the matter, Colonel?"

Brewster waved a paw dismissively. "I think it is taken jolly care of, m'lord, I had just wanted to make sure…" He trailed off as he realized that Rockfur had many other important things to worry about as it was, without adding more. Changing the subject, Brewster asked, "Wot did I miss?"

Rockfur nodded his head to one of the other hares. "Private Eric here thinks that we should stay here in our positions and continue to inflict damage on the vermin with our archers."

"An' I'm guessing that – since we of the Long Patrol are never in need of many different opinions – somebeast else thinks they have a better plan, eh, m'lord."

A tall, lean, black hare with white ears named Major Phillips answered for the Badger Lord.

"Aye, I have a plan. I suggest that we use the Night Squads to attack the enemy. Surprise them and drive 'em back down the bloody mountain, wot wot."

Brewster shot Rockfur a glance, then turned back to Major Phillips. "Would that be wise though? I mean, what do we stand to gain from launching an assault when we clearly have the advantage of a better position?"

"Well, for one, we'd discourage those vermin blaggards from attacking us again. Two, if we used our hares right, we could inflict far heavier losses on the enemy than we are now."

"Hmm, and it would help boost the morale of the troops." Urthblaze added. "And I'm sure that it would put a damper on a lot of the vermins' morale to boot. An enemy with no hope has already lost the battle."

Rockfur seemed slightly surprised that the young badger had spoken up. "I say, Urthblaze, you never told me that you knew anything about strategy. And here I was thinking that you were only a mere warrior." As he said the last part, his eyes twinkled mischievously. It was obvious he was trying to encourage the younger badger to feel free to speak his mind amongst the hare officers.

 _That young Urthblaze has worked wonders on Lord Rockfur._ Brewster smiled to himself. _I've never seen the old rascal so cheerful._ He wondered if Urthblaze would ever consider staying at Salamandastron, and maybe even one day, become the next Badger Lord after Rockfur. The colonel zoned back in. He had missed whatever Urthblaze had said to Rockfur in reply, but Major Phillip was still explaining how a good offence was sometimes the best defense.

"Alright, Major Phillip," Lord Rockfur rumbled deeply, "I've come to my decision." The badger paused until he was certain he had all of their undivided attention. "We'll launch a counter-attack."

000000000000000

 _By the fangs of Vulpez, this is going a lot worse than it was supposed to,_ Hookarm thought angrily to himself as he ducked behind a rock. A clatter of longbow shafts pierced the rocky ground where he had been standing only seconds ago.

When Captain Hookarm and his company of a few hundred corsairs had arrived and began to tell the rest of Baro's vermin who were making their slow, yet relatively safe, progress up the mountain that they were to prepare for a full assault, there had been more than a few questions and objections. It wasn't until messengers from Baro had arrived that the other vermin captains grudgingly agreed. After all, Hookarm and his corsairs _were_ still the wolverine emperor's allies. Hookarm wished he could've heard what the messages from Baro were, but whatever the case, they seemed to have worked. Though Hookarm was now beginning to regret even committing himself to the attack in the first place.

 _Some of these dang fools would probably like to stretch me out on a rack if this attack continues on like this._ The rat looked around at his company of two hundred searats. Ten had already fallen. The pirates weren't armed with the large shields that Baro's troops carried.

Hookarm waved his cutlass in the air and let out a war-cry. "Come on, boys, let's get 'em!"

The vermin around him grudgingly picked up their pace and climbed forward as one, their shields held above their heads. Arrow after arrow rain down on them, along with sheets of sling-stones and throwing spears. Some of the vermin sergeants barked out orders for the archers to return fire.

An ermine soldier gurgled as he was hit in the throat by an arrow. He fell over backward, causing Hookarm to scramble around him.

"Climb, me buckos, climb! We need t' get t' th' bloody crater iffen we want t' save our hides!"

In the far right flank, a white fox spotted what appeared to be a small, narrow opening in the sloped mountain wall. He gave a whoop of triumph and began to scramble to it faster, his weapon held eagerly in his paws. As he got closer he realized that the window was open. Once he made it below it, he set down his pike and jumped up, his arms just managing to catch the windowsill. He grunted as he slowly pulled himself up until he could hold his weight with his elbows. He peered forward into the dark room and saw tall, lanky, shadowy shapes.

"Evening, wot. Were ya hopin' to pitch a cup of tea, old beam?"

A pair of strong paws grabbed the fox's head and smashed it into the side of the stone wall. The white fox jerked back in pain and fell, rolling down the mountain's steep surface for a ways before slamming into a large rock jutting out, his neck twisted at an angle that left no doubt that it had snapped.

The hearts of the vermin in the right flank trembled as they heard the sound of Salamandastron's mighty battle-cry.

"Eulaliaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"

A patrol of grim hares wearing dark, grey-ish cloaks suddenly appeared as if from nowhere. They ran forward and used lances to kill any of the vermin stragglers that were too far from the main force then melted back into the rocks, their cloaks' colors providing natural camouflage.

The place where the Lord Rockfur had chosen for them to attack was the place they called 'Vulpez's Slope'. It was of the most formidable sections of the mountain's southern face. Full of pillars of rock jutting out and with many deep crags that could cause a beast to fall and break their legs. It was the perfect place for Lord Rockfur and his paw-picked squad to attack from. From there, they could neutralize the advantage of the horde's superior numbers and use it against them.

As Hookarm saw the right flank of the vermin soldiers turning to face this new threat, he screamed out at the top of his lungs. "Where are ye idjits going? Th' crater is that way, ye gull-brained, barnacle-hided pieces o' seaweed!"

Hookarm realized that the vermin furthest from him probably couldn't hear what he was saying, and even if they did, they probably weren't listening. He gestured for his searat bodyguards to follow him and began to make his way to Vulpez's Slope.

000000000000000

Urthblaze swung his sword in an arch and caught an ermine in the chest. He took a step forward and smashed his paw into the ermine's snout. The vermin crumpled to the ground, dead.

The young badger blinked as his vision went from red to light pink. He glanced down at his paws and saw that one was sticky from blood. _What have I become?_ He wondered. _Grandfather had always said that badgers who couldn't control their Bloodwrath were sometimes a danger to everybeast, even the ones that they loved._

Urthblaze growled sharply as a spear suddenly cut into his arm, he turned to see that a white fox had attacked him from behind, his shield held at ready in one paw, and a his weapon in the other.

The fox lunged forward again, and Urthblaze felt the spear tip hitting him in his shoulder. Luckily, the armor held and the weapon merely bounced off it.

 _This vermin is skilled._ Urthblaze thought, trying to batter his way past the fox's spear range so that he could reach him with his long sword.

He grunted as the fox merely jumped back and scrambled up a large rock where he was out of the badger's reach. Vulpez's Slope was a better place for nimble beasts like hares, the slope itself made it hard enough for Urthblaze to fight, the fact that the fox seemed more at home at dodging to and fro made it worse.

"Hold still," Urthblaze couldn't help but snarl, "Ye slippery little weasel."

"I'm a fox actually," the vermin replied, spitting from his place on the rock. He thrust his spear and Urthblaze barely ducked in time.

The fox suddenly screamed and dropped backwards, an arrow sticking out of his eye.

A black hare that Urthblaze recognized as Major Phillip of the Night Squads leaned on his longbow and grinned. "What ho, Urthblaze, you okay? Next time don't let the bloody scoundrel get above you, wot wot."

Urthblaze reached over to a rock wall and wiped some of the blood off his paw. "Thanks. Where's Lord Rockfur? How is the rest of the vermin horde reacting to our counter-attack?"

Major Phillip suddenly brought his bow back up and loosed a feathered shaft. Urthblaze heard a scream and turned to see that more vermin were gathering outside of Vulpez's Slope.

"Well, well," Major Phillip said, "I think the rest of the bally vermin want a place at the party, wot wot."

"I think they'll get more than they bargained for."

00000000000000

The vermin ranks that had gathered on the outside of Vulpez's Slope were experiencing problems of their own. The Night Squads were among some of the finest archers and lance-throwers in the entire West Coast. As groups of vermin would randomly bunch up and hurl themselves at them, the grey-cloaked hares would seem to melt into the rocks. That meant that the only two warriors that the vermin could fight were Lord Rockfur and Urthblaze. And nobeast was too keen on their chances against a badger.

Hookarm was practically hopping up and down as he yelled for the troops to continue onward. "Kill 'em, ye swabs! What are ye waiting fer, a royal invitation or somethin'?"

One of Baro's sergeants suddenly lifted a horn to his lips and blew. The deep, almost thunderously loud sound carried across the mountainside.

 _What was that about?_ Hookarm wondered. The rat suddenly realized with horror what the horn had meant when all of Baro's troops scattered from the rocks and began to run down the mountain slope, yelling "Retreat, retreat!" and "Fall back to the shore".

"What's going on 'ere!?" Hookarm yelled, grabbing one of ermine by the arm as she ran by. "Why are y' all runnin'? We almost 'ave 'em!"

"W-w-we're supposed teh retreat if somebeast blows th' horn," the female ermine stammered, "I'm jus' followin' orders."

" _I'm_ th' one who gives th' orders around 'ere, ya clod-head! Get back over there 'n' fight!"

The ermine merely wiggled her way out of his grasp and continued to run with her comrades back down the slope.

One of Hookarm's searat bodyguards came up to him.

"Capt'n, we need t' retreat wit' 'em, we won't 'ave near th' strength t' take on those blasted badgers 'n' those hares of theirs. We'd be turned t' chowder if we tried!"

The searat captain finally let out a sigh as he tried to calm his temper. He would need his wits about him. "Alright then," he said, "Sound th' call for our beasts t' retreat as well."


	45. Chapter 44

**Author Note:**

 **Elvish Kiwi's favorite sister: I'm glad you like Blue-Eyes. I rather like him too. He's actually probably one of my favorite villains so far.**

 **Well, the politics of Terramort are…a little complicated. XD Basically, Bloodfur controls the island and Fort Bloodgard with his own personal army, and he also uses crews of searat rabble to his advantage. If you're not in his good graces, well… let's just say that you're hopefully not too attached to your ship or cargo.**

 **Ah, the ferret attack. *Chuckles evilly* I can't say very much since I don't want to give spoilers, but I'd advise you to read the next chapter.**

 **Seakard: Well, the part where the retreat was called will be explained a bit more hopefully in the next Salamandastron chapters.**

 **Waycaster: Why thank you. I enjoy reading your battle scenes in ARR so I'm flattered.**

 **I like reading a lot of different medieval fantasy books, and I like reading battles that are well described but are also fairly simple to read. I want to make sure I don't bore my readers to death or anything.**

 **Abrahem: Ooh! What an interesting idea about the wolf skin! I'm glad you joined Discord, hopefully I'll be able to talk with you more there as well.**

 **Our library is pretty cool. I enjoy going to get stuff from them. Some libraries (Like one my cousins used to use) can be really annoying sometimes… I'm glad ours isn't like that.**

 **I'm glad you also liked the battle! And as for accepting your friend request, the pleasure was all mine!**

 **Keva Strongbow: An interesting observation. I think One-Ear would agree with you. XD**

000000000000000

 **TERRAMORT:**

Slisk's mind was in a whirl as she and her crew made their way through one of the many crowded streets that led back to the tavern that they had been staying at.

Her first mate, Raggar, came running up beside her, his face completely confused. "Capt'n," he whispered, "ya never told that pine martin knife thrower t' kill th' Queen. I thought ya 'ad told her that she was t' kill Bloodfur–"

"–Quiet y' fool," Slisk hissed. "King Bloodfur probably has eyes 'n' ears everywhere."

Raggar slowed his pace until he was directly behind the searat captain. He could tell that she was extremely angry, and Raggar was wise enough to know that it would be better to let her simmer down – or to see even _if_ she would simmer down.

 _That Igeyorhm creature is going to have a lot of explaining to do,_ Slisk thought, her paw instantly going to her dagger as she thought of the female pine martin. She wasn't sure what to do now. When Slisk had hired Igeyorhm, she had made it clear that her orders were for Igeyorhm to kill the king and to bring the Prince Jaskvar to her, alive. She had planned on using the babe as a bargaining chip in taking the throne. She doubted that Queen Gabriella would have dared to refuse her demands if Slisk had her child's life in her claws. But then that dratted pine martin had to go ruin everything by killing Gabriella instead.

 _What kind of game is Igeyorhm playing?_ Slisk asked herself as she and her crew rounded another bend in the street. _She couldn't have been working for King Bloodfur because he wouldn't have ordered her to murder his queen, and she definitely doesn't appear to be working for me anymore._

They pushed through a crowded square, and Slisk finally caught sight of _The Rusty Cutlass._ It seemed to her that the tavern itself seemed to loom over them mockingly as she and her pirates trooped through the door. The beasts inside all stopped their drinking and gambling as they saw the looks on the crew's faces.

"What's wrong with yew, mates?" a fat stoat asked from where he sat, a mug of seaweed grog in his paw. "Ye all look like ye 'ave seen a pack o' ghosts or somethin'."

Before anyrat could stop him, one of the younger members of Slisk's crew blurted out in a squeaky voice: "Th' Queen 'as been murdered! Somebeast stabbed her with a knife, she's as dead as a doornail at th' bottom o' th' sea!"

At the news, the room practically exploded with questions as the creatures in the tavern tried to figure out all of the details.

"What 'bout th' king?" a grizzled searat asked, "Is Bloodfur dead too?"

"Yeah," another agreed, "Or what about his son? Did he get a knife in his gut as well?"

"No," the young rat with the squeaky voice replied, "Or at least, I don't think so. Bloodfur kicked out all of th' captains 'n' their crews from Fort Bloodgard until they figure out who t' punish."

"Who would murder Gabriella o' all beasts I wonder."

"Do they 'ave any idea who it is?"

The questions went on and on, and Slisk was finally forced to dismiss most of her crew so that they could mingle into the tavern and answer as many questions as they could. After all, the crew themselves had no idea that Slisk had been planning on killing anybeast. Most thought that one of the captains of the guards had done it, some even went so far as to suggest that the queen could've been ordered to be assassinated by King Bloodfur himself! Besides, Slisk decided that her best hope at appearing innocent was to seem just as confused as the others. But first, there was something she was eager to take care of…

Slisk beckoned for Fang and Raggar to come to her. Once they did, she lowered her voice so that only the weasel and rat could barely hear her.

"I want ya both t' find Igeyorhm an' bring her t' me. I'm going t' make that no-good traitor pay fer double-crossing me."

The two vermin nodded their heads and disappeared among the crowd in the tavern. As she waited, Slisk sat down at an empty table and flicked her blade idly in her paw. It wasn't long after when Fang and Raggar came back, empty-pawed.

"She seems t' 'ave disappeared, Capt'n," Raggar said simply, "We asked around, an' that fox who owns this tavern – I believe his name was Barko, or somethin' like that – said that she had slipped in a while before we arrived, an' took her things an' left. He said that she was most likely lookin' fer a ship off th' island."

"Well she'll 'ave a problem findin' a vessel t' take her out if she hasn't already got one," Slisk mused aloud, "King Bloodfur put a ban on ships leavin' Terramort."

Raggar glanced fearfully at the door. "Do y' think Bloodfur knows about, er… what really happened? If he does, he's probably got beasts on their way right now, armed t' the teeth an' prepared t' slit our throats!"

" _Do_ you think th' King suspects you fer th' murder?" Fang asked.

Slisk noticed that the weasel had cleverly used the word 'you' instead of 'we'. "I guess we'll find that out soon enough." The rat captain stood up. "I want some of our crew t' keep 'n' eye out in the streets surroundin' this tavern. Fang, take a few of th' lesser known deck rats back to our ship with ye, see if King Bloodfur has confiscated it, but make sure you don't attract attention t' yerselves."

As she started walking away to the stairs leading to the top floor, Raggar shot her a puzzled look.

"Where are ye going, Capt'n?"

"I'm going t' rest an' try t' think of a way out of this predicament. Th' stakes are high, we 'ave t' be prepared to do whatever it takes."

00000000000000

 **TERRAMORT: THE SLAVE PITS**

The slaves had finally finished their back-breaking work as the sun began to set. They stood together, forming into lines and walked thankfully to their cave cells, where they would at last be able to drop back onto their beds and catch a bit of sleep before the next day.

As the slaves filed through the cave prison door, they were handed small bowls made from sunbaked mud and they received a small scoop of leftovers from Fort Bloodgard's kitchens.

Abe Hardspike had specifically made sure that he had been assigned to the job of helping to give the slaves their food. He continued to spoon out vittles to the slaves, looking for one in particular. He let out a quiet sigh of relief as he finally saw Broge enter the line. Once it was the shrew slave's turn, Abe leaned forward and whispered into his ear, "We need to talk. Drop your bowl and break it."

The shrew looked slightly confused for a moment, but then his eyes brightened knowingly as he caught on. As Abe began to pour the scraps into Broge's bowl using a large ladle, the shrew's knees appeared to give out on him and he collapsed, dropping his mud bowl forcibly to the ground where it broke into many pieces.

"Watch what you're doing there, shrew!" Abe barked out, waving his ladle threateningly. "Clean that mess up before I pop you one on the noggin!"

"Yes, sir," Broge grumbled. He meekly got out of line and started to pick up the shattered pieces. A few of the guards looked at him and spat, but otherwise did nothing.

Abe continued on for a bit, but then handed the ladle to the other kitchen helper, a skinny mouse called Grubbypaw.

"I'm going to make sure he does a good job," the hedgehog explained, pointing a claw at Broge. Once the other slave nodded and continued working, Abe went over to Broge and whispered out of the side of his mouth.

"Have you heard the news about the queen?"

"Nae really," Broge whispered back, shrugging as he scooped some of the broken parts into his paws. "Why, what's th' queen been up tae?"

"Nothing. She's been murdered. Nobeast knows for sure who did it, but King Bloodfur has ordered that no ships are to leave Terramort until he finds out."

Broge almost dropped the pieces of hardened clay he was holding. " _What?_ " he breathed in frustration. Remembering to keep his voice low, he added a little more calmly, "Well, that's going tae be a problem tae be sure. I'll be sure tae tell th' others."

"So do we keep going on with the plan? After all, it's going to be a lot harder escaping if Bloodfur sends his extra searats to make sure that the ships don't go anywhere."

"Yes, we'll go through wit' th' plan. Th' quicker th' better. I plan tae leave this hunk o' rock as soon as possible, if nae sooner. We're only going tae get one shot at this.I'd say we'd better be gone in at least two days."

Once Broge had finished picking up the shattered bowl, he took the pieces and dropped them onto the food cart. Most of the slaves had already gotten their food, so Broge said that it would be better if he wasn't seen talking with the hedgehog, or somebeast was bound to get suspicious.

As he watched the scarred shrew hurriedly grab his scraps of vittles and joined the group of beasts filing back into the Slave Pits, Abe thought to himself. _We're actually rather alike, Broge and I. We've both lost so much to these filthy searats. Then again, we're also different._

Abe helped Grubbypaw push the now empty cart back up the path that led to Fort Bloodgard. _Let's just hope Broge and I will both be able to escape this place of misery. I guess we'll find out in two days' time… for good or for ill._

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 **TERRAMORT: FORT BLOODGARD**

King Bloodfur had taken up the habit of pacing up and down his throne room. The large rat had kicked all of the corsair crews that weren't his sworn soldiers out of Fort Bloodgard. The throne room was filled with an earie quiet.

Bruggor and a score of guards watched the rodent king as he walked back and forth, his large red axe still held in his claws. Bloodfur had thrown on a shirt of chain mail, and about his shoulders he wore a red cape. His arms and legs were also covered with light armor.

The king was mumbling to himself. As he passed by one of the tables that was still full from dinner, he swung his heavy red axe in an arch and crashed it deep into the wooden frame. Aside from his mutterings, Bloodfur was silent – A very dangerous kind of silent.

"Yer Highness," Bruggor asked, shifting his spear from his right paw to his left. "Would yew like us t' bring yew t' yer personal quarters?"

Bloodfur seemed to ignore the captain of the guard's question, instead, he said, "Hmm… Bruggor, 'ave any of th' captains who were feasting with us act suspicious lately in any way t' ya?"

"Um… I don't know, Yer Majesty. I'm only a simple warrior, not a spy or a master mind-reader."

"Just do as yer told," Bloodfur snapped, "Now answer th' question. Did ye notice anythin' suspicious?"

"Not really, Yer Majesty. Actually… that depends on what ye mean by 'suspicious'. I saw Captain Pikeface of th' _Thunderclap_ giving a few shifty looks t' his crew."

"Hmph, that's not anythin' new. Pikeface _always_ has a shifty look on his face. Anybeast else?"

"Well… Swellgut th' stoat had made a suspiciously loud burp when that rat messenger arrived…"

The glare that Bloodfur shot Bruggor showed how unamused the king was.

"Anybeast _else_?"

"Er… 'ow 'bout Slisk 'n' her crew?"

Bloodfur's ears shot up, his eyes thoughtful. "Hmm… yes, I think that is a pretty good guess myself. However, what I can't figure out is why Slisk, or anybeast fer that matter, would want t' dispose of Queen Gabriella? Surely it would've been far wiser to go after my heir t' the throne, or even me fer that matter! That's what I would've done if I planned on gaining power, so why Gabriella of all creatures? What advantage could they expect t' gain?"

Bruggor shrugged. All of the politics of the court were beginning to make his head hurt. "I really don't know, Yer Majesty." He thought noticeably for a minute and then shrugged once again. "I dunno. I guess it would be a good question t' ask after ye caught th' murderer, not before."

"Well, if I knew the reason why th' killer would– …wait a minute!" Bloodfur glanced back at the other rat. "What did ye say?"

"Um… I said that I didn't know?"

"No, no," the large rat shook his head, "Ye had said somethin' 'bout askin' a good question…" He stared down at the floor and continued to pace for a few moments. Suddenly, he clapped his paws together. "Aha! Gruggor me matey, ye're a genius!"

"Um… I did, Yer majesty?"

Bloodfur went back to the table and heaved his double-bladed axe back out of its hard surface. "That's what I'll do then. I'll just _ask_ who murdered my wife. Bruggor, I want ye t' take a troop of searats 'n' bring me a member from Captain's Slisk's crew first. Th' higher rankin' th' better! I'll put him on th' rack 'n' see fer myself who is guilty. If the first one proves that he knows nothin', I want ye t' nab a member from each ship's crew until I find out who is responsible. Now go, an' don't fail me."

Bruggor bowed deeply. "Yes, Yer Majesty."

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It didn't take quite as long as the king had expected for Bruggor to return. King Bloodfur had gone to his bedroom after he had waited a while. He had barely taken off his chainmail shirt and sat down by his desk stacked with papers when he heard the sound of feet marching outside in the hallway, followed by a quick knock.

"We brought one of Slisk's crew like y' asked, Yer Majesty."

Bloodfur sighed and scooted his chair back and got up. He had meant for them to throw any creature that they found in the dungeon until morning, but he decided that now was as good as a time as any.

Going over to where his red axe leaned against the side of the bed, he grabbed it and unlocked the door. "Ye may bring him in. Just make sure 'ee doesn't stink up my room with his filthy self."

Bruggor and four other rat guards hauled in a weasel with his paws tied tightly behind his back. Blood ran down from the weasel's mouth from where one of the rats had hit him. He looked like he hadn't come down easy.

"We found 'im sneakin' about at th' docks, Yer Majesty," Bruggor reported. "He was with three other companions – grubby sailors by the looks of it, but we decided t' let them go since ya said ya only wanted one creature from each crew."

Bloodfur nodded. "Well done." Walking back to his desk, the rat king turned the chair around and sat down, resting his impressive axe on his knees. He gazed into the weasel's eyes as he said, "So, ye're a member of Slisk's crew, eh? What's yer name?"

The weasel merely spat on the ground and kept his silence.

"Sorry 'bout that, Yer Majesty, I probably should've warned ya, this one ain't too polite," Bruggor said, clearing his throat. "Before he knew that we wanted t'… _escort_ 'im back t' ye, he had said that his name was Fang. Apparently he's some ranking officer among Slisk's crew. He even might be th' first or second mate or somethin'."

"Hmm, good work. Though it appears that talkin' isn't one of his strengths, now does it?"

Bruggor scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah… well, we didn't know that until we had already seized him. At that point, his companions had cut 'n' ran."

Bloodfur turned his gaze back to Fang the weasel. "So," he began, "there are three ways we can do this. There is th' easy way, or th' hard way…"

Fang was a master at keeping silent when he chose, yet he couldn't help but ask the obvious question. "What's th' third way?"

Bloodfur snorted. "That way is far too messy, an' it would also take more time than I would like, so I'm not even going t' explain 'ow it works. Now, I want ya t' tell me if y' know anythin' about Slisk being behind Queen Gabriella's death."

"Why should I tell y' anythin'?" Fang asked, glancing down at his tied paws. "Ya don't even trust me enough t' let me keep my paws free."

"Ha! I trust y' as far as I can throw ya, weasel. Though on second thought, I guess I could probably throw y' pretty far… Now, tell us what yew know, or I'll 'ave t' force yew to give me th' truth."

"Threats won't sway me."

The searat king nodded his head back and forth as if he considered that a fair point. "Alright then. I prefer actions t' threats anyway. Bruggor, take this weasel t' th' Room of Shriekin'. Make sure the rat twins don't torture him t' death, but tell 'em that they don't 'ave t' take it easy on him either. I want him alive."


	46. Chapter 45

**Author Note:**

 **Abrahem: Well, as for your question about what power did Bloodfur get from marrying Gabriella, I have to be careful how I answer that because I plan to write a short story about how he became King of Terramort someday when I get the time (I'll probably also have to wait until I complete The Grey Warlord). But so far, my main idea is that she was the daughter of very powerful dude (basically, a weaker version of a king), and Bloodfur married his** way **into an alliance.**

 **Hmm, that's a little hard to answer because I've read LOT'S of medieval/fantasy books with great battles. A few honorable mentions would be, The Lord of the Rings, Redwall, Crusader King, Ranger's Apprentice, and Angels in Iron.**

 **Waycaster: Well, 50-50 is better than no chance at all I guess. :-P Then again, I'm recalling a certain incident where some of my shrews escaped but then got punished pretty harshly… Hmm, maybe not escaping wouldn't be so bad after all. :-P**

 **Ah, Igeyorhm** _ **does**_ **take the cake for making everyone guess what her motives are.**

 **The Grey Coincidence: Ooh!** _ **Two**_ **reviews! I wish I could take the time to reply in depth to both, but I've been trying to shorten my Author Notes a tad, (Wouldn't want a fifth of my book to be the Author Note. XD) I'm still quite flattered by both of them though. Thanks!**

 **I seem to have a couple of those Switcheroos hidden up my sleeve. XD**

 **("Because in a way she's innocent") ~ That's true. Wouldn't it be terribly ironic to be the cause of so many crimes, than get punished for the one crime that you didn't do? XD**

 **As far as the escape plan, and Slisk and Bloodfur's rivalry goes, I guess we shall have to wait and read…**

 **JP fanfic: Good observation there! Abe will probably end up doing a lot of hard things if he wishes to escape (Even if that includes trusting Slashblade).**

 **(Warning) This chapter might get a bit dark near the end. Just thought I'd mention that. Happy reading to you all!**

000000000000000

 **TERRAMORT: FORT BLOODGARD**

When the sun finally rose from where it had been hiding in the east, Bloodfur was already awake. He hadn't slept well that night. His dead wife kept appearing to him in his dreams, holding out her arms and wailing: "Why haven't you found my murderer? I must be avenged!" To make things worse, Bloodfur also had a pounding headache.

The rat king rubbed his red eyes as he threw on his clothes, along with his armor and prepared to go down for breakfast. He was tempted to bring his axe with him, but even his battle-hardened muscles were becoming weary of carrying it around wherever he went. Instead, he went to his desk and, opening one of the drawers, pulled out a long dirk. He slid it out of its sheath slowly, handled it with a great amount of care. In all appearances, it seemed to be nothing more than a simple weapon. However, its blade was coated with the deadliest poison that the rat could lay his claws on.

Thus armed, the king opened the door and walked into the hallway. The two sentries guarding his room door both sprang up to attention, saluting hastily.

"Where is Capt'n Bruggor?" Bloodfur asked, rubbing his forehead. "Is he awake yet?"

"I don't think so, Yer Majesty," one of the rats replied stiffly. "He walked by here late last night on his way back t' th' barracks, an' let me tell yew, he looked tired enough t' sleep through a gale."

"Hmm," Bloodfur stroked the fur on his chin. "Well once he wakes up, tell 'im that I want 'im t' report t' me. I need to go get some vittles."

000000000000000

Bloodfur walked down to the Dinner Hall. He went over where the normal file and rank soldiers went to get their food. A few of the vermin shot each other uneasy glances as they noticed their king staring at them, but most of them continued on with the serious business of eating breakfast. There wasn't that big of a variety to choose from, only a few large pots of oatmeal, along with some cooked sea birds.

The rat king gazed about the room. Usually, the Dinner Hall would be packed with the many corsair crews. Now, however, only Bloodfur's troops could be seen.

 _I wonder how many of my beasts can be trusted…_ Bloodfur thought to himself, almost idly. _That's the problem with most troops. They're only loyal as long as they believe their leader will lead them to might and glory. Luckily for them, I've given them both._

There was the familiar sound of heavy footsteps as King Bloodfur turned to see Bruggor arriving with half a score of guards.

"Yer Majesty." Bruggor bowed. "Yew sent fer me?"

"Aye." Bloodfur took a cup of seaweed grog, along with a plate of food, and sat down by one of the empty tables. "I wanted t' know if we learned anythin' useful from that weasel last night. I assume he's still alive?"

"He is, Yer Majesty. Though," he added with a look of distaste, "he got blood everywhere. He's a stubborn beast."

Bloodfur ripped a piece of a bird wing off and chomped into it. "But is he a broken beast? That is the question."

Bruggor nodded. "Aye, it took a while, but he couldn't last forever. Even th' most stubborn of creatures don't last long in the Room of Shrieks. He said he's ready t' tell yew all yew want t' know."

"Perfect." Bloodfur wiped his mouth with his sleeve and stood up. His headache seemed to have disappeared already. "Let's go pay him a visit."

000000000000000

Fang wasn't sure what to think when his cell door suddenly opened and Bloodfur and his guards came trooping in. Perhaps this was going to be the weasel's end. Fang didn't know which he feared more: Death, or being brought back to the Room of Shrieking.

Bruggor took a step forward and prodded the wounded weasel with the butt of a spear. "Get on yer knees before th' king," the rodent ordered. "It's only by his mercy that yew're still alive."

The words tasted like bile on the weasel's tongue. "Mercy'?" Fang struggled to his knees. "Yew call this _mercy_?"

Fang winced as Bruggor smacked his spear across his shoulders. The wounds on the weasel's back were reopened by the blow, and he could feel fresh blood seeping into his fur.

Bloodfur held up a paw. "Enough, Bruggor. Now," the searat king squatted down so he could see Fang eye to eye, "I hear that yew are prepared t' give me th' truth this time." His voice hardened as his paw closed around his dirk handle. "Is Slisk responsible fer th' death of my wife?"

Fang's gaze dropped down to the floor. "Yes … She is."

The searat king closed his eyes briefly. "Tell me everythin', weasel. Give me th' truth and I'll give yew a reward. However, if I think fer one second that yew might be lying t' me then yew'll be a dead beast."

000000000000000

 **TERRAMORT:** _ **THE RUSTY CUTLASS**_

Slisk had just awoken from a restless sleep when one of her corsairs burst into her room and informed that Fang had been captured by a company of Bloodfur's rats.

After she had sent the messenger to find Raggar, she began to gather what few items she had brought from her ship. She pulled out a bottle of fine wine that she had picked up on a woodlander village raid, and took a few deep swallows from it.

She set the bottle down and, thrusting a short cutlass and her daggers into her belt, walked out into the hallway outside of her room. She waited until Raggar came running up the stairs. Her first mate looked nervous.

"Bloodfur has Fang," Raggar said, wringing his paws. "Do y' think he'll squeal an' blabber out th' 'truth?"

Slisk didn't trust anybeast to keep her secrets, not even Fang. However, she wasn't going to tell Raggar that. He would just collapse in an emotional heap or something. "Of course he won't! Fang is made of hardened steel! Just don't panic or creatures will start t' suspect that we 'ave somethin' t' lose."

"But we _do_ 'ave somethin' t' lose; our lives!"

"Th' king mustn't know fer sure who killed Queen Gabriella if he bothered t' capture only one of my crew. Chances are he just wants t' interrogate 'im a bit, then hopefully let 'im go. However, if we start runnin' about with our paws in th' air, screamin' out 'ow King Bloodfur is comin' t' get us, we'll get our heads sliced off for certain. An' I rather like my head attached t' my neck."

"But what happens if –" Raggar broke off suddenly as he tilted his head sideways. "Do hear that? It sounds like there's some sort of commotion downstairs."

Slisk held up a paw for him to keep silent. Then, she moved forward until she was at the top of the stairway that led down to the tavern's drinking room. Rat soldiers were pushing their way through the door, knocking over anybeast who stood in their way.

"Who 'ere is a member of Slisk's crew?" one of the soldiers snapped out to the surprised corsairs. Most of them had only just woken up, and judging from the looks on their faces, they weren't happy that the king's rats were making their morning sour.

"Who wants t' know?" Barko Irongut asked from where he was polishing mugs from behind a counter. The fox tavern owner could tell that whatever the king's rats wanted with Slisk's crew, it wouldn't be good, and if any serious fights broke out in _The Rusty Cutlass_ then he'd probably end up paying for the damages himself! "Did they do somethin' wrong?"

"That's fer King Bloodfur t' decide." The rat captain replied. "We 'ave orders fer all of their arrests. So I'll ask one more time, which creatures 'ere are Slisk's crew?"

 _This is it, Bloodfur has found out!_ Slisk slowly backed away until she was out of sight once again. She didn't even bother to listen as her crew and the other pirates and vermin below all began pointing claws at each other, desperate to prove that they weren't who the soldiers were looking for.

She turned around swiftly and bumpe right into Raggar. Her first mate had also crept closer to hear what was going on, and Slisk could see the panic in his eyes.

"What do we do now, capt'n?" he whispered urgently.

Slisk wanted to scream at him that she didn't know, but instead tried to look like she wasn't fazed at all. Her stomach was churning as she thought about what Bloodfur would do to her if she was captured. "Keep quiet an' follow me. We'll try getting' out somewhere else. Make a wrong movement an' I'll gut yew!"

Raggar nodded fearfully as Slisk led him back down the hallway. Beasts that were awaken from their slumber by the shouting downstairs came out of their rooms, rubbing the sleep from their eyes as they tried to figure out what exactly was going on. The two rats did their best to look casual as they half walked, half ran past them.

"There!" Raggar said in a hushed tone, pointing to a window at the far end of the hallway. Luckily for them, most of the other vermin by now had run downstairs, and the ones still in the hall weren't looking in their direction.

Slisk poked her head out the window and saw that there was a regular, one story high building directly across from them. The drop from the tavern to the ground was two stories, but if they could leap all the way over onto the other building…

"I'll go first," Slisk declared, rubbing her paws together to stop them from shaking. "Make sure nobeast is watching."

Just as she put one footpaw on the wooden window sill, preparing to leap across, she happened to glance down and saw that two rat guards dressed in the king's colors had walked into the empty street directly below her. They seemed pretty relaxed, their weapons were slung carelessly over their shoulders, and they were chuckling and talking by a wooden cart loaded with tied sacks. Both of them hadn't thought to look up, but it was only a matter of time until one of them did.

Slisk steeled herself. It was now or never. She grabbed both sides of the window with her claws and used them to push herself forward as she leapt!

 _Please make it! Please make it!_ Slisk's mind kept repeating as she flew through the air. The opposite roof seemed to swoosh up toward her as she dropped, and she landed on it with a thud, her arms and footpaws taking most of the impact. She froze, trying to ignore the rush of pain that ran through her bruised body.

"Did yew 'ear that?" one of the vermin below asked his companion, glancing up with his spear at ready. "I thought I heard something up there."

"Eh, yew're probably just hearin' things," the other replied, "Besides, we're just supposed to make sure Slisk an' her crew don't come runnin' down 'ere. We're _not_ supposed t' be runnin' about, following weird noises."

Slisk let out sigh of relief as the guards continued to talk. She gestured for Raggar to jump. The first mate looked like he was going to wet himself, but he prepared to jump anyway. Suddenly, Slisk saw a pair of paws roughly grab Raggar, and she heard a voice yelling: "I got another one! He must've thought he was a bird 'cause he was going to jump – argh!"

Raggar's smashed his elbow into his captor's throat and leapt out the window. He would've made it too if the rat soldier's arm hadn't suddenly shot out and grabbed his footpaw. Raggar let out a terrified shriek as he plummeted down, crashing onto the wooden cart full of bags of flour. He gave a weak whimper of pain and looked up to see a pair of spears pointed down at his chest.

"No, it wasn't me," Raggar gasped out weakly, "I didn't do a thing! Mercy!"

The soldier in the window poked his head out and saw Slisk standing on the other roof below.

"Get 'er! She's tryin' t' escape!"

 _I don't think so, mud-brains!_ Slisk turned to run her way along the roof, when suddenly, her thigh exploded with a searing pain as something heavy thudded into it. She barely had time to register that it was a spear that had hit as her knees collapsed from under her and she rolled off the roof, smashing her head against the hard surface as she did, making everything go black.

000000000000000

 **TERRAMORT: FORT BLOODGARD**

 _Well this is certainly an upgrade from hauling potatoes,_ Abe Hardspike thought to himself. The hedgehog was helping another slave to carry out a tray of empty bowls from the soldiers' breakfasts. Bloodfur had ordered a gathering in the Throne Room, so those who hadn't finished their food were gulping the rest of the vittles down as quickly as they could. With all of the recent events going on in Terramort, they were hoping that the king would be able to give them some answers.

The two slaves carried the tray of dishes all the way back to kitchens and set them down by the sink, where several scrawny slaves were washing them.

"Abe, Grubbypaw, both of yew come 'ere!" the head cook, a bad-tempered fox with garlic-smelling breath who went by the name of Skrunbles came stomping up, swinging a heavy cane. "I want th' two of yew t' bring platters of fruit up t' the Throne Room. Apparently his Highness is having a big ol' meetin' up there, an' we wouldn't want him or th' others t' get hungry. Now snap to it! Move those paws an' don't drop anythin'!"

The fox's cane smacked down twice on Abe's and the other mouse slave's shoulders.

"I said _move_!"

Muttering apologies, the two slaves hurriedly grabbed the plates stacked with fruits. Abe glanced down at the food he was holding in his paws as they made their way to the Throne Room. Not long ago, he would've been ready to do anything for a slice of fruit. But since he had been moved to work in the kitchens, he (along with the other slaves) managed to grab the odd bits of food here and there. Not only that, but they were allowed to eat any of the scraps that the soldiers didn't eat. Abe smirked quietly to himself. Little did his masters know that Abe had been collecting quite a considerable amount of items since the moment he'd arrived. Broken or unused knives, long-lasting food of any kind, extra bits of wool or cloth, everything made its way into Abe's small hoard of treasures. The hedgehog's recently found talent in burglary surprised even him! Hopefully, once the escape plan was underway, Abe would be able to bring the supplies with him. Fates knew that they would need anything they could lay their paws on.

They entered the hall and looked for a place to set the plates down among the crowded tables and benches. They weren't eager to get back to the kitchens where they would undoubtedly be assigned with yet another task. While they were walking about, there was a commotion at the Throne Room's main doors.

"Here they are!" a deep voice rang out, "They found th' traitors!"

All of the beasts in the room instantly rose to their footpaws, trying to get a good view at what was going on.

Slisk's crew was surrounded by a large group of soldiers. They pirates' paws were tied together, and by the looks of some of them, it was easy to figure out that there had been differences of opinions among the corsairs and their captors along the way. In the very front of them all was Slisk. The side of the female searat's head was a massive dark purple bump from where she had smacked her head. Not only were her paws tied in front of her, but her footpaws were also tied as well, the rope leaving only enough slack for her to shuffle along.

Captain Bruggor lead them all the way through the Throne Room until he finally ordered for the company to halt just before the empty throne. Beasts gathered on both sides of the room were whispering and muttering, casting the tied prisoners disgusted glances.

A short rat dressed in a long green coat came out of the side door behind the throne. Clearing his throat loudly, he yelled out in a high voice, "Make way for his Royal Majesty, the Mighty King Bloodfur!"

The guards used the butts of their spears to knock all of the prisoners down to their knees.

"Pay th' king his respect an' maybe he won't be as hard on yew," Bruggor said, grinning at the vermin captives.

Every creature bowed their head as King Bloodfur made his entrance. The rodent was dressed out in red silks. His armor shone and his crimson cape dragged on the ground regally behind him as he walked over to his seat. His head fur had been combed back, and on his head was a heavy crown made of solid gold. He carried his red axe with him.

"Ahem. I'm assumin' that yew're all wonderin' why I called yew all 'ere," Bloodfur said in a booming voice that carried across the crowded hall. "Well yew're all about t' find out." He pointed a claw at Slisk's kneeling form. "This… _this_ scum was responsible fer th' murder of my wife; th' High Queen Gabriella."

Gasps of surprise echoed throughout the crowd, even some of the members of Slisk's crew were looking around, confused at what was going on.

Bloodfur held his paws up in the air for silence. "Now, I've dealt with this kind of rabble before. Creatures 'ave tried an' failed to seize this throne since th' very day I was crowned. None have escaped unpunished, yet in th' past, there have been some that I've let off more lightly than others." He turned his eyes back to the hateful figure below him. " _She,_ however, will receive no such mercy. She has done somethin' far worse than merely tryin' t' seize power. She has killed a member of the royal family!"

"Proof!" Slisk shouted out, struggling back to her footpaws. "I demand that yew prove yer accusations true! Yew 'ave no proof whatsoever!"

Abe could see the small smirk on Bloodfur's face as she said those words. "Yew want proof? Fine, I'll give yew proof." He turned and nodded his head to a Bruggor. The rat captain saluted and ran back through the Throne Room doors, shutting them behind him.

His departure did little to help quiet the room down. Soldiers, cooks, food servers and all manners of vermin were whispering and conversing to each other. Abe had to dodge around a tall stoat as the creature blundered past to talk to somebeast behind him.

Everybeast turned their heads as the doors finally swung back open. Bruggor and two other rats half dragged, half carried the limp body of Fang between them. They dumped the weasel down unceremoniously in front of King Bloodfur.

"Alright then, Fang," the rat king said, practically purring, "tell us all th' truth. _Is_ Slisk th' one behind th' murder?"

Fang's eyes moved from Slisk to Bloodfur, then back to Slisk. "I'm sorry, Capt'n, but this is a sink or swim situation." He ignored the hateful and disbelieving glare that she shot him. "She is guilty, Yer Majesty. She had told me of her plans herself."

"LIAR!" Slisk was foaming at the mouth as she tried to drag herself free from her guards so she could choke the weasel with her bare claws. "Yew're a liar, Fang! I was th' one who took yew in my crew when yew had nothin' left! I-I…" She dropped back down to the ground as if even her short outburst had completely exhausted her.

There was a deathly silence, and one by one, every eye turned to look up at Bloodfur as he sat, tapping the throne's arms with his claws. Slowly, Bloodfur grabbed his axe and stood up. He rubbed a paw across its razor sharp edge. "Slisk, yew 'ave been found guilty of yer crimes! I hereby declare that yew shall die by beheading! I myself shall do th'…unpleasant duty."

Any glance at the king's face would've showed that he didn't think that killing Slisk would be an 'unpleasant duty' in any way, shape, or form.

He walked forward and nodded to Bruggor. The rat captain nodded back and he, along with another muscularly built rat, yanked Slisk up from the ground and back on her knees, forcing her to bend her head and neck in front of her.

She turned her head sideways and glanced up into Bloodfur's eyes as he readied his axe. "Whatever yew an' that weasel might say, I actually didn't order Gabriella's death. She was just an unfortunate casualty."

"Then who, pray, were yew plannin' on killin'?" Bloodfur asked, grinning at her mockingly. "It wasn't _me,_ was it?"

"As a matter of fact, it was." Slisk lowered her head and stared down at the ground. "I hope yew die I long an' painful death, _Yer Grace_. My only regret is that I won't be there to dance on yer grave."

Bloodfur slowly raised the axe above his head. "Well then, I'm sorry t' disappoint yew." Steeling his grip, he swung!

Thus died Slisk; feared captain and raider of the Northern Sea.


	47. Chapter 46

**Author Note:**

 **The Grey Coincidence: Yep! Poor Fang was broken (Literally and figuratively). Ah yes, good old vermin love; a haunting experience to be sure. XD Yes, I guess Raggar's (And the rest of the crew's) fate will most likely be decided in the next Terramort update.**

 **Yes, as I was writing it I could help but chuckle (I'm evil sometimes, I know. XD) that there was one thing, ONE thing that she didn't do, and *Whack*, off with her head. XD**

 **As for her manner of death… Now that I think about it, he *was* probably letting her off a tad easy compared to what you'd normally expect. I had been toying around with different manners of death for our "innocently misunderstood" Slisk, but I couldn't think of one that would be memorable enough, without scaring the daylights out of some of my readers. :-P (Besides, beheading was a lot shorter to write)**

 **Agreed! 'Very useful stuff' will indeed prove, well, useful. XD**

 **Abrahem: Correct! She's dead as a doornail! I'm glad you found it suspenseful! (I tried to make sure it was, so hopefully I didn't bore ya'll. ;-D) Yes, the Terramort and Redwall plotlines are really fun to write sometimes (Though ANY plotline is fun to write if I'm dealing with a fun plot twist, or battle or something).**

 **Ooh! 'Blue-Eyes being behind the murder', what an interesting idea! I obviously won't be able to say one way or another, but great theory! (Keep 'em coming! ;-D)**

 **Waycaster: Yep, the odds were stacked against her. The terrible irony is that she probably would've won if it wasn't for the murder going sour. But, *Shrugs* , what can I say? Life can be like that sometimes…even for corsairs.**

 **A couple interesting question you've got there. The first one shall hopefully be explained sooner rather than later, however, as for that last one… *Whispers* We shall have to wait and see…**

 **Keva Strongbow:**

 **Review 1#: Yeah, the name was a spur on the moment kinda thing, but I kinda like it. :-P**

 **Review 2#: Yep, Fang has, as you put it, "spilled the beans". :-P Let's hope his guts don't spill as well…**

 **JP fanfic: Yes, Broge can sure get things done if he sets his mind to it, can't he? :-P I'm glad I caught you by surprise (That was the whole point of it after all. Well, and plot kinda demanded it, so…)**

 **Emma Lillyhawk: Thank you so much for taking time to review me, Emma Lillyhawk! I hope you continue to read and enjoy** _ **The Grey Warlord**_ **.**

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 **THE WESTERN PLAINS**

White wisps of clouds slid gracefully across the light blue sky as the army from Redwall pressed on across the Western Plains. The flat meadows were filled with flowers of all sorts: kingcups, buttercups, cowslip, and dandelions.

Sebias turned around as he took one last glance behind him where Redwall's Bell Tower could still be seen, towering high into the sky.

The otter felt a paw clap him comfortingly on the shoulder. He turned his head to see Tharko giving him a knowing smile as he marched along to the right of him.

"I bet yew're gonna be home sick, huh?" Tharko asked, "I know I was when I left home for th' first time. Yew get used t' it after a while."

"I wish that I'd rather _not_ have to get used t' leaving, if yew know what I mean," Sebias replied, letting out a sigh. "Alas, that's the problem with growin' up. Yew've gotta leave the nest."

"'Nest'?" Kirk's voice echoed questioningly from Sebias left. "What are you, some kind of bird or something?"

Sebias raised an eyebrow with disbelieve. "Y' mean yew've never heard of the saying 'every bird has t' leave the nest'?"

"Of course I've heard it before." The black fox winked. "I was just messing with you."

"Oh… Heh, y' had me for a minute there…" Sebias glanced up at the sky. Changing the subject, he said, "I wonder how long it'll take us to reach Salamandastron. I've always wanted t' go there, though I never expected that my first visit would be like this."

Tharko chuckled. "Yeah, it's funny 'ow ironic life can be sometimes, though I wouldn't worry _too_ much. That mountain has never fallen to a vermin assault before, so most likely we'll be on the winnin' side."

"There is always a first time for everything though." Kirk raised an eyebrow as he glanced over at his scarred friend. "You of all beasts should know that."

Tharko twitched his nose. "I guess I do. Are yew referring t' that one time I beat that one wrestler from the hedgehog tribe on th' West Coast? The look on his face when I flattened him was priceless!"

Sebias had grown silent as he walked in between the two conversing beasts. Their banter reminded him of Sam and Gerardo, and for a second, he couldn't help but feel his stomach harden as he realized that it would be a very long time before he heard his friends' voices again.

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 **REDWALL ABBEY**

Gerardo and Sam had spent most of the evening staring out toward the west where the army sent to relieve Salamandastron had gone. Even after they had faded out of sight, they stayed; waiting and watching in a companionable silence.

"Well, I guess I'm going to go down to the Cellars and see if they need any help moving the Strawberry Fizz," Sam said at last, starting toward the stairs. "Wanna come, Gerardo?"

The mouse shook his head. "Nah, maybe next time. I think I'm gonna go up to the Infirmary. I hear that the Infirmary Keepers are having a heck of a time keeping that injured bird in one place. I want to see him for myself. I might be able to learn some information from him for an experiment I've been working on…"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Not another experiment!" the squirrel said in mock horror. Then he laughed, "Just make sure that this one doesn't explode into flames or anything. It's hard enough trying to keep your experiments under control as it is, but now with Sebias being gone and all, I don't know if the Abbey could handle it."

"Hey! My last project didn't 'explode into flames', it merely…" His voice trailed off and he glanced up skyward. "Okay, so maybe it did explode just a teeny bit. It wasn't _that_ big of a deal." Just as Sam opened his mouth to object, Gerardo plowed on. "Anyway, great talk! I'm gonna go though. Things to do and places to be, you know."

"Uh-huh, sure…" Sam looked like he knew that Gerardo was trying to change the subject, but decided that he'd let the matter drop.

Gerardo quickly ran to the stairs that led off of the wall top and, giving a final wave to Sam, made his way into the Abbey. As he was walking by, the mouse dropped by the kitchens and picked up a couple of muffins that were cooling on a tray. Munching on one happily, he finally came to the Infirmary.

The door was wide open, as Gerardo popped his head in. "Hello, mind if I…uh… Goodness, did a storm blow in here?"

The healing room was in a dreadful state. Broken shards of glass bottles and bundles of cloth were scattered across the stone floor. A bed had been knocked over as well. One of its pillows seemed to have exploded its feather stuffing all over the place.

And there, on one of the beds, was Arjarro, sleeping in the midst of it all. The golden eagle was a mess, covered from beak to talon with spilled medicine. It appeared that the Infirmary Keepers hadn't gotten the chance to clean off the mud and twigs from his wings and plumage either… Arjarro didn't seem to mind in the slightest however, he just kept on snoozing.

Sister Julia and Brother Michael were on either side of the large bird. They almost looked as bad as he did.

"Huh," Gerardo remarked aloud, "I'm guessing that he's been a pawful."

"Pfft! Being a pawful wouldn't describe this at all!" Sister Julia squeaked, glaring down at her messy clothes. "Look at what that… _that_ terror did to my best apron!"

Gerardo walked over. He couldn't help but grin. "What were you doing to him to make him react like that?"

Sister Julia glared down at a puddle of vile-looking medicine on the floor by one of the upturned beds. "We were _trying_ to clean him up and see if there was anything wrong with his wingswhen he went wild. Hmph, he sure seemed to like candied chestnuts though. I gave him a few, and he ate the whole jar of them!"

Brother Michael wiped his forehead and let of a sigh. "I'm just glad that we moved the Abbot Daniel over to his room. With the fuss that this bird was making, he might've knocked over something onto Daniel! Honestly, I've never seen such a wild bird in all of my life! You'd think that we were branding him with hot steel or something!"

Gerardo coughed to hide a smile. "So what's wrong with him?"

"Nothin' wrong with Arjarro," an amused voice suddenly interrupted. The three Redwallers turned to see Arjarro grinning from where he lay. "My wing heal with time. No need worry, groundbeasts."

"'Groundbeasts'?" Gerardo raised an eyebrow. "Do you mean _us_?"

"Craw! Yes. Me be wingbeast," –Arjarro indicated himself with his beak– "An' you all be groundbeasts. See?"

Gerardo tilted his head. "I… never thought of it like that before actually." As he was speaking, the mouse had been moving closer to the eagle. "So, Arjarro, would you mind if I inspected your wing?"

Arjarro scoffed. "Ha! Nobeast need touch my wing. I mighty: very strong. No need for groundbeasts to try to help me."

 _Hmm, rather humble beast, aren't you, Arjarro,_ Gerardo thought amusedly. It seemed to him that the bird's fierce and independent pride wouldn't allow him to receive help. But… what if the bird thought that it was _he_ doing _them_ the favor…

"Oh, of course not," Gerardo agreed, much to Brother Michael and Sister Julia's surprise. "I'm sure that a big strong warrior like you wouldn't need help from anybeast."

The eagle's chest swelled at his words. He glanced over at Michael and Julia. "This mousie groundbeast be very smart."

"Of course," Gerardo continued, "if I had your permission, I'd like to study and check your wing a bit. Just for study," he added quickly. "I'm working on a project and if you cooperate, I believe you could help me a lot. Please?"

Brother Michael's face brightened as he figured out what Gerardo was up to.

Arjarro paused for a moment then shrugged his one good wing. He leaned his head back on the bed tiredly. "Alright, fine. Just remember, mighty Arjarro needs no help."

"Of course," Gerardo soothed. The young mouse gently took a blanket and covered Arjarro with it. "Now why don't you just cover those sleepy eyes while I go grab a few things?"

As the mouse began to head for the door, Brother Michael said, "I think I'll come help you."

Once they were out of the room and out of Arjarro's hearing range, Gerardo gave the squirrel brother a wink. "While I'm inspecting him and writing down my notes, you and Sister Julia can patch up his wing if you want."

The Recorder shook his head in disbelief. "My my, what a fiendishly clever young mouse you are."

Gerardo shook his head as he tried to keep a straight face. "I wouldn't say fiendishly clever. More like your ordinary, humble genius."

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 **MOSSFLOWER WOODS**

At the head of the troops, Skipper Wildstream, King Ironspear, and Log-a-log marched side by side. The army had finally reached the end of the plains. They were just entering the long line of trees when King Ironspear surprised them by barking out an order.

"Alright, troops, we're stopping here for a bit. Rest your footpaws and grab some vittles."

Skipper and Log-a-log exchanged a look.

"Um, why are we stoppin' now?" the shrew chieftain asked. "I thought speed was of th' upmost importance? We've barely left th' Abbey."

"I'm waiting for something," the Grey Warlord replied. "No worries, my friends, we shouldn't be waiting here too long."

Log-a-log shrugged and told his Guosim shrews to rest. Skipper sent out some of his otters to scout the forest ahead. _After all_ , Skipper thought, _it never hurts to be careful, especially since we're marching straight toward trouble._

The otter chief made his rounds, checking to see the morale of his crew. Most of them – mainly the younger and newer otters – were excited and eager to prove themselves in the upcoming battle. But there were a few who seemed nervous about the whole venture, and Skipper Wildstream made sure to encourage as many of them as he could. He was quite good at lifting the spirits of the beasts under his charge. It was one of the reasons that he had been chosen to become the Skipper of the tribe.

He had just finished sharing a joke with one of the crew when his eyes caught sight of Sebias. The young otter was sitting by a large oak tree a little ways off from the others.

Whistling a merry tune, Skipper strutted over cheerfully. "'Ow we doing over 'ere, mate? Everythin' all shipshape?"

Sebias glanced up. He hadn't even noticed Skipper walking over. "Oh. Hi, Skip. I'm doing fine I guess..."

Skipper stopped mid-stride. "Tch tch. Sebias, I'm afraid you're as easy to read as a book."

The young otter gave a half-hearted grin at Skipper's words. "Yeah, you know me too well, I guess." He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "I'm just –… Well, I guess I just need t' get used t' everythin'."

"Ah, good, good!" Skipper bellowed out, punching Sebias on the shoulder good-naturally. "What do y' say t' a good old sparring match, matey? Think y' can land one on my old whiskers?" Seeing that the young otter was having doubts, the chieftain continued, "Ya know, you'll be wantin' as much practice as you can get afore we arrive at th' mountain. 'Practice makes perfect' as me old grandfather used t' say. Then again, he always told my dad that I was a 'proper little stinker' so his words of wisdom might be slightly shady…"

Sebias could guess that Skipper was trying to cheer him up. After all, the otter chief had taken him under his wing since the day that he had arrived at Redwall as an orphan. _Besides,_ Sebias thought, _it's not like I'm exactly_ enjoying _sitting here. Gerardo and Sam certainly would kick me off my rudder if they were here._ He stood up. "A sparrin' match would be great, Skipper! Did you bring the sparring poles from th' Abbey?"

"Nope! It's time you learned 'ow to use a javelin. Fates know you'll need to. While we're at it, why don't we ask your two friends t' come and watch? Maybe they'll even feel bold enough t' join us? It'd help 'em feel more at home, I think."

Sebias shrugged. "I don't know. I'll ask 'em. Where should we meet?"

"Over there." Skipper pointed to a small patch of grass by a large, dead elm tree. "I'll see if his lordship King Ironspear has any objections while I go get my weapon."

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As it turned out, King Ironspear had no objections whatsoever. In fact, he told Skipper that he was in complete favor of it. "It'd be good for the troops to have something to do or watch while we wait," the wildcat had said.

"An' how long will that be, do y' think?" Skipper had asked.

"Hopefully not long, my friend. It might take a bit longer than a first thought, but no matter. I wish you luck at your sparring match."

By the time Skipper had prepared everything, a small crowd of otters, shrews, and hamsters had gathered around in a circle. Some were sitting and eating pieces of fruit that they had found or dug out of their packs. Sebias, Kirk, and Tharko were already there.

Tharko glanced around at the waiting figures around them. "You both sure won't be short on spectators, I'll say that." The scarred otter wiped off bits of dirt from his tunic. "I guess they're all as bored t' death as we are."

Sebias hoped that his two companions couldn't see how nervous he was. He wasn't as sure about his sparring skills as he had been when he had agreed to Skipper's suggestion. _I hope I don't make an idiot of myself and fall flat on my face or something._

Sebias walked over to Skipper as the chieftain beckoned him over.

"Come on, Sebias, let's get this party started!" Skipper tossed him one of the javelins. Contrary to what he said before about needing to practice with real weapons, the two javelins' metal tips had been broken off so that they wouldn't injure each other by accident. Now that they were both armed, Skipper gave him a nod and they began.

Skipper began with a lightning-fast swipe with his pole, and Sebias blocked it with his weapon's shaft.

 _Clunk!_

Before the younger otter could recover, Skipper jumped forward and, using his heavier weight and his staff, pushed Sebias back. Seeing that the novice had already lost so much ground, some of the bystanders (mostly the shrews and hamster) let out low whistles and shot each other knowing glances.

Even though he felt like crawling under a rock, Sebias tried to keep his mind focused. He'd show them! Planting his feet firmly like roots, he stayed on the defensive, waiting for his opportunity.

"Hmm, you've gotten a lot better at defense there, matey," Skipper commented as Sebias blocked one of his blows. "But don't just sit there. Y' need t' attack me back." Giving a skillful sideways thrust, he tripped his pupil, making him fall flat on his rudder. A few amused chuckles broke out among the bystanders.

Skipper helped Sebias get back onto his footpaws.

"Do y' want t' keep going, matey?" the big otter asked. "We can stop now if you want."

"Thanks, but I'll keep going." Sebias grinned as he picked up his wooden shaft. "Besides, my pride won't let me stop until I land at least _one_ good blow."

"That's th' spirit!" Skipper said, clapping him on the back. "Let's see what you got then!"

Once it was made evident that they were going to continue going, the other members of the otter crew (along with a few shrews) began to call out words of encouragement.

"Go on, Sebias!"

"You're doing great!"

"You can get 'im, young one," a shrew's voice rang out, "Just make sure yew keep light on yer feet!"

"Why would y' tell 'im t' keep light on his feet?" a different shrew objected. Guosim shrews were infamous for their arguing nature. "He should stay firm and hold his ground!"

The first shrew muttered under his breath. "An' what do yew know 'bout sparring with javelins?"

Sebias didn't wait to hear what the other's shrew's reply was and instead hurled himself at Skipper, who blocked his blows like he was some mechanical fighting machine.

Sebias felt his previous hesitation evaporate as he fell into the familiar rhythm. He dodged and parried Skipper's blows until he forget that anybeast was watching. They could've been back in Redwall's inner grounds for all he noticed.

He saw Skipper grin as Sebias blocked one of his thrusts. "Very good, matey, I see that y' remember everythin' that I taught ya. Let's turn up the heat, shall we?"

The fight went on for a good while. Sebias's shoulder's ached and he had gathered quite the collection of bruises. Nothing too painful, but painful enough so that he'd be feeling it tomorrow morning…

 _This is our longest sparring match yet!_ Sebias thought as he gasped for breath. _I've never been so exhausted in my life!_

Unknown to Sebias, Skipper was having similar thoughts. _He's gotten a bit better since he left with Gerardo and Sam. Hmm, and he's got plenty of energy._ The otter chief loved a good fight, but doing it none-stop was beginning to tire him out. After all, he wasn't getting any younger.

The chief had seen an opening in Sebias' defense and tried to take advantage of it. However, as he jumped forward, his left footpaw tripped on a trailing root, causing him to stumble momentarily.

That was all Sebias needed.

Giving a whoop, Sebias swung his staff as hard as he could and smacked Skipper's weapon out of his paws.

As Skipper straightened up, Sebias let his staff lower to the ground. "Did I win, Skip?"

Skipper grunted, pretending to be gruff. "Yes, well, this time. But don't expect me t' be easy on you next time…" He grinned to himself as he saw the look of achievement and joy in the younger otter's eyes.

The troops suddenly heard the familiar sound of their officers barking out orders to get back in ranks.

"I guess King Ironspear's messenger came." Skipper remarked. Reaching out a paw, he ruffled the fur on top of Sebias's head. "Alright then. I'd better get back to the vanguard. We might be able to practice a bit more later on if you want."

"That'd be great, Skipper. See ya later then."

Giving an acknowledging nod, the otter left to find the other leaders. He had to shoulder his way through some of the groups of creatures who were filing back into ranks. It was only when he came across his own otters that they gave way to their chief. The others, however, were ignorant of Skipper's rank, thus, he had to push his way through like the rest of the troops.

Once he made it to the vanguard, he marched straight up to King Ironspear, who was busy talking to somebeast that Skipper couldn't see from behind the wildcat's back.

"Did yer messenger arrive?" Skipper asked, tapping the Grey Warlord on the shoulder. The armored wildcat turned to face him, and Skipper's eyes widened with surprise when he saw the creature that he had been talking to.

"A bat?" Skipper gasped in disbelief. "I didn't know there were any bats in Mossflower Woods. Is _he_ yer messenger?"

King Ironspear nodded and smiled. "Yes. Glugwing here is one of my best scouts. He just brought me vital information that shall prove to be quite indispensable later on in our campaign."

"What kind of 'vital information', Yer Lordship?"

The wildcat waved a paw indicating that Glugwing was dismissed. His green eyes followed the bat until he had disappeared out of sight above the treetops. He turned back to Skipper. "Well, if the rumors about the vermin's numbers that are attacking the mountain are true, then I took the liberty to summon reinforcements of my own."

Seeing the otter's confused expression, he continued, "My friend, you are about to have the honor of meeting Captain Blake of my bat brigade. He'll be waiting for us up ahead with a thousand or so of my troops. Together, we'll join under the same banner and continue our march to the mountain."

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 _Footnote:_

 _So this chapter was a little bit more fluff than my other chapters. (I'll have'ta admit though, it was nice taking a break from all of the doom and gloom, and head-chopping. XD)_

 _Happy reading to you all!_


	48. Chapter 47

**Author Note:**

 **Emma Lillyhawk: Well thank you! And yes, Bloodfur isn't one of those characters that someone would want as a friend. XD**

 **Abrahem: Oh yeah, I remember that bird. Queen Warbeak, I believe? Yep, it should be quite interesting to see what happens to Bergen… (Will he find some way to get kicked out of Redwall? We shall have to see, won't we?). I'm glad you liked the name Blake and the bats!**

 **Waycaster: Yes… Thought it was about time for somebeast to finally do something about Salamandastron being attacked. XD (Then again, it took quite a long time for messages to arrive in the medieval times. But then there are birds so…hmm…)**

 **I actually didn't know who Matrim Cauthon was (Which means I haven't read the** _ **Wheel of Time**_ **), but I checked the wiki and found a personality description. I agree with you, though. Sebias seems to have a fair share of luck (he probably would've gotten his tail severely kicked if it had been a fight to the death). XD**

 **Elvish Kiki's favorite sister: Yes, he's pretty fun to write (Especially that scene with the forge. Who doesn't like writing a segment about a badger beating the snot out of an innocent chunk of metal. I sure do! XD) Weeeell, I guess there are more important things for him to do (I wouldn't know what important things he'd do either though. XD Besides, finding a way to "calm down" is important, right?)**

 **As for how One-Ear lost his ear… Shh… It's a secret… (*Glances around suspiciously*)**

 **May you always have many muffins to eat! ;-D**

 **JP fanfic: I guess we'll have to wait and see… And yes, I think the Redwallers agree with you: letting a fox in is a risky business to be sure!**

 **The Grey Coincidence: Why thank you! I'm glad you liked it!**

 **Keva Strongbow: Yep, Gerardo's a smart cookie (Or "humble genius", according to Gerardo. XD)!**

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 **MOSSFLOWER**

The stars twinkled in the sky far above the army's campground. Their campfire's light danced and flickered, making Kirk's fur seem to ripple with shadows. The black fox's paws clenched and twitched as he slept…

He was dreaming that he was running through a dark forest. The dark canopy overhead seemed to press down on Kirk, and inside the vermin's chest, his heart pounded with fear. He heard the sound of somebeast, or something, crashing through the foliage behind him. Giving out a bark of terror, Kirk ran.

He fled heedlessly through the trees, crashing through brush and scrambling over rocky outcrops that jutted out. At first he could hear nothing but the sound of what-ever-it-was following him. However, he began to hear voices in the air, some wailing and pleading for mercy, while some were screaming out in anger.

" _Please don't kill me! I have a family, sir! I'll do anything!"_

" _Help me!"_

 _An older beast's face flashed before him as the words echoed in his head. "You'll never be worth anythin', Kirk. Nothin'! Do you hear me?"_

" _What would yer father think if he could see you now?"_

Out of the corner of his eyes Kirk saw wraiths and spirits from his past coming to haunt him: Creatures that were still marked with mortal injuries that he had given them. They had begged for mercy, yet found none. Every beast that he had killed or that he had failed to protect was around him. He tried to ignore them, but the memories would not stop flowing in.

 _There was a scrawny, young mouse that had been standing protectively, holding his baby sister with one arm, and holding a broken table leg in his other paw. Kirk's blade hadn't even needed to swing more than once before it had chopped the woodlander in two._

His vision blinked as another memory came. _A hedgehog, his face frozen in pain as he stared off into the distance, his weapon still held limply in his paw. His throat was red where Kirk had slashed him._

Kirk tried to plug his ears with his paws as he stumbled forward. "Quiet!" he yelled out to the phantoms following him, "Leave me alone!" He ran into a branch but he pushed on, closing his eyes as he ran, spitting out leaves when they whipped him in the face.

Suddenly, without even realizing it, he was out of the forest. The voices and the phantoms slowly faded until the silence that followed was absolute. Kirk opened his eyes. He could see the edge of the dark forest just behind him, but all there was ahead was a massive field.

Kirk heard the sound of earth being grinded and torn as ten stone pillars suddenly rose from the ground. He could see that six of them were white, and two were black. The other two seemed to blink and fade, making it hard for Kirk to tell what color they were. His footpaws seemed rooted to the spot, he doubted he could've moved, even if he wanted to.

He watched as two of the pillars crumbled and fell, only to rise again, along with three new ones.

 _What in Hellgates does all of this mean?_ Kirk wondered, still frozen. It was only in dreams that Kirk really felt fear. When he was awake, there was little that could shake the self-confident, cocky, young warrior. However, now it was like he had no control of his emotions or reactions at all. There was the sound of a loud boom, almost like thunder, and a fox appeared before Kirk.

The vulpine was dressed in a long robe, and his fur was pure black, almost like Kirk's. However, the thing that stood out the most was his eyes. They were pure red and seemed to burn with a literal fire.

 _Who could this be?_ Kirk wondered, _I've never dreamt or seen him before…_

The strange fox began to mumble out vague words that Kirk's ears could barely catch. "This world is connected. Soon all shall be rejoined." He suddenly stopped speaking, and cursed to himself. Then, the strange vermin pulled on his hood, shading his fiery eyes from Kirk. His actions seemed flustered, but he continued on, "There is still much for you to learn, as you understand all too little."

Kirk finally found his voice. "What? I don't understand you. What will be rejoined? Who are you?" Then he added with a scream, "What do you want?!"

There was a painfully-bright flash of golden light and then everything in his dream disappeared.

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Kirk sprung up from where he had been sleeping, his fur damp with sweat. He panted shakily, until he realized that it had only been a dream. Then, letting out a quiet sigh of relief, he buckled on his broadsword. With the feeling of the heavy weapon at his side, he felt his lingering fear from the dream fade away.

King Ironspear has said that his reinforcements were waiting at the place where their forces would have to pass over the River Moss, so he and the other leaders decided to camp for the night instead of pressing on. Once they had crossed the river, they would be able to pick up the pace a notch.

He looked at the other beasts around him. Most of them were still curled up in their blankets and tents since it was still a few more hours until dawn. Kirk suddenly shivered, though not from the cold night air. _Why do I have to keep having these dreams?_ Kirk grumbled to himself, sitting back down as he waited for morning light. _Couldn't somebeast else be plagued with them?_

Deep down, the fox knew that his life would always be filled with prophecies and warnings of doom. _But why? It's not like_ I _can do anything about…whatever it is I keep dreaming about. I've been a mercenary, a wanderer, a raider, and I've failed at all of them. What does fate want from me now?_

Kirk buried his face into his paws. Why did life have to be so confusing? He stayed like that until dawn finally came.

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Kirk lifted his head and realized that he must've dozed off. The sky was turning a light orange on the eastern horizon as the sun began to rise. The cooks were up and about, along with a few other beasts (Most likely the sentries whose watch had ended).

Rolling up his blanket, Kirk tugged on his cloak to ward of the morning chill. It was too early for the birds to greet the new day with song. Giving a yawn, the black vulpine decided to stretch his legs with a walk. He passed through the sleeping forms around him until he reached the outskirts of the camp. He was surprised when he heard the sound of a beast approaching from behind him. He was even more surprised to see that it happened to be King Ironspear.

"Ah, having trouble sleeping?" The Grey Warlord asked as he walked up, his cloak skimming the ground behind him. His whiskers twitched as he smiled, "Or do your eyes always look that red?"

"I'm just an early riser." Kirk straightened his shoulders. "What about you? You always wake up before everybeast else?"

"Troubles plague me even when I sleep. I've been through too many wars and battles to always have a peaceful night's sleep. Do you know what that's like, Taggerung?"

Kirk was slightly surprised that Ironspear had asked the question so bluntly. "I guess all veterans would know that feeling."

"Ah, you keep a guarded tongue, young one." The wildcat stared off into the trees. Kirk's had to strain his ears as Ironspear added, almost as if he was talking to himself, "It's a pity we live in times like these. Full of mistrust and treachery." He glanced back to Kirk. "You know, I must confess that it wasn't a coincidence that I bumped into you. I've been meaning to talk to you…"

Kirk made sure to keep his face expressionless. "Why in the world would you want to talk to me, Sire?"

"Oh, don't try to play games with me, Taggerung," the Grey Warlord said. His chest seemed to rumble like a quiet rolling thunder as he chuckled. "Many beasts think that I can be easily fooled, but I've proved many of them wrong. I'll try to get straight to the point." The massive wildcat leaned forward and said in a lowered tone, "I was wondering if you'd be interesting in joining my service. In the little time that I've seen you, I can tell that you'd be a valuable addition to my forces. It'd benefit you also, of course. You'd have my protection, and I'm sure there are…things we could learn from each other that would help my cause."

"And what would that be exactly? Your 'cause', that is?"

The Grey Warlord shook his head slowly in amazement. "My, it _is_ hard getting a straight answer from you, isn't it? As for your question … I wish only to bring peace to all of the lands, and even though many creatures do not understand what I do, I wish to protect and unify all creatures under one banner: a banner that will symbolize happiness and good will to all beasts, vermin or woodlander. I've seen the horrors of war. It's a terrible thing to behold – as I'm sure that you know. I wish to create a new age of a lasting peace."

"And how could this 'lasting peace' be accomplished, Your Majesty? Pardon my saying so, but many, many warriors and heroes have tried since the dawn of time to stop wars between vermin and woodlander. How do _you_ propose to do what they could not?"

The wildcat's whiskers tugged up in a smile, though the smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "Because Fate itself has chosen me to do this, and I am prepared to overcome any obstacle that gets in the way of progress."

"And what would you need me to do then?" Kirk asked, scratching his dark neck fur. "Surely if you wish to create a lasting peace, you wouldn't need a warrior like me? Or…" he paused, his eyes narrowing slightly, "Just what exactly do you believe must be done to achieve your 'goals'?"

"Not _'my'_ goals, you must understand, it's the common good's goals." He stopped and looked up as the sun's rays trickled through the trees, slowly but surely casting the night shadows back. Birdsong began to fill the air as the creatures of wing and feather rose to greet the day.

"I will explain more to you later, my friend… in time," The wildcat pulled his cloak closer about him, "but for now I must prepare my hamsters to leave. We'll have to march at double the pace today. Just…think about what I told you. I'm sure we'll talk more on this matter, at a later date."

With that, the wildcat left, leaving Kirk wrapped up in his own thoughts.

000000000000000

The loud, deep sounds of wooden horns blaring woke up the other sleepers. Grumbling, they packed up their gear under the watchful eye of their superiors.

"Come on, yew lazy lot!" Log-a-log yelled out, whacking a few still sleepy-eyed Guosim with a spoon. "Vittles will be waitin' fer yew once yew've gathered yer things. Best hurry up, too! – we wouldn't want th' food to go cold."

The shrew chief's words brightened up most of the soldiers. Food was always a welcoming proposition.

Kirk waited silently on the outskirts of the camp until he saw Tharko and Sebias both enter the line for food. He walked over to join them, ignoring any annoyed glances from the creatures that he had cut in front of.

"Mind if I join you?" Kirk asked, tapping Tharko on the shoulder from behind.

The scarred otter stopped what he was saying to Sebias and turned around. "Oh. I was wondering when yew'd turn up, mate. Sure, hop right in!"

As Kirk filed in next to the pair of otters, he felt a paw roughly prodding him in the back, followed by a gruff voice. "Hey, vermin, go to the back of the line where yew belong! Vermin like yew shouldn't be able to cut in line in front of other… more sophisticated beasts."

The black fox turned around to see a small shrew. He looked like your average Guosim, but that only meant that he looked rough and ready for trouble. He spat on the ground as he looked at Kirk.

"Did you just call me a vermin?" Kirk asked in a dreadfully calm voice. His voice hardened ever so slightly as he asked, "What is your name, shrew?"

"I'm called Firglo," the shrew puffed out his chest. He took a step forward threateningly. "Listen, I've seen way too many evils committed by yer kind – I trust th' lot of yew as far as I can throw yew. So move that sorry tail of yers back to th' end of th' line where you belong! Or I'll be forced to take unpleasant measures." His paw dropped to the hilt of his sheathed rapier. "Got it, dung face?"

Sebias saw Kirk's eyes furrowing together, and he knew that things weren't going to end well. Trying to be the peacekeeper, he held up both of his paws, and said to the shrew, "Our friend didn't mean to offend anyone. He just wanted to join us –"

"– And just who do you think you are, you miserable little slug?" Kirk interrupted, his eyes glaring coldly down at Firglo. "I've killed warriors ten times your size before. Taking care of you would be easier than slicing carrots!"

"Oh ho! So I'm a 'little slug', am I? I think it's about time somebeast knocked some sense into that thick skull of yers."

Sebias looked around helplessly. A few of the other Guosim had bunched up in a group behind Firglo and looked like they would back him up if things went ugly. The rest of the creatures, hamsters, shrews, and otters alike, were watching with interested expressions. They wanted to see the outcome.

"Psst, Tharko, do something," Sebias whispered, nudging the other otter in the ribs. "Kirk's going to get himself killed!"

"No he won't." Tharko was watching the ensuing conflict with an amused smirk. "Just watch. He's gotten himself in tighter places than this."

"But shouldn't we try to –oh, I don't know– help?"

Tharko shook his head. "Just watch. That shrew's gonna regret being such an insulting little trouble-maker."

By the time Sebias turned his attention back to Kirk and Firglo, the two beasts were already yelling at each other.

"You talk big for a small shrew!" Kirk said, towering over the smaller creature. "I'll only go back to the end of the line if you apologize for calling me a vermin!"

"Ha! That'll be the day! Yew're already in the wrong since yew cut in line, so I don't have to apologize fer nothin'!"

Kirk slowly shook his head, as if he was amazed. "My, you are a stubborn little brute, aren't you? You know what, I have better things to do than waste my time. Go bark at a tree or something."

"Oh no you don't!" Just as Kirk began to turn so he could walk away, Firglo reached forward and grabbed his arm. "I'm not finished with yew!"

Kirk suddenly grinned. "Well, you asked for it." His left paw shot out like lightning, smacking Firglo a painful blow right on the nose.

The shrew stumbled back in shock, his face covered with blood as it flowed from his injured nose. "Stupid vermin! Let's get 'im, lads!" he roared out to his companions.

As one, Firglo and four of his fellow Guosim surged forward and leapt onto Kirk. The black fox was as slippery as an eel. Kicking one of the shrew's footpaws out from under him, he unbuckled his sword and scabbard with one paw and threw it over to Tharko. Then, he went back to the serious business of tail-kicking.

One of the shrews, a good deal faster than his comrades, managed to jump up and land a punch on Kirk's eye.

"What in 'ellgates is going on here!?"

Bodies went flying as Skipper Wildstream and Log-a-log both smashed into the brawl. Yanking the fighters apart, Log-a-log began to berate his shrews.

"What's wrong with yew?" he bellowed out, grabbing one of his shrews – who happened to be Firglo – by the scruff of his neck. "What in the name of fur possessed yew all to start fighting your comrades-in-arms, eh?"

"He cut in line, Log-a-log!" Firglo snapped out, trying to pull himself out of the chieftain's iron grasp. "I wasn't doing anythin'!"

Log-a-log glanced up at Kirk. The shrew looked like he wasn't entirely sure that Firglo was telling the truth. "Is that what happened?"

Kirk gingerly rubbed his swollen eye. "Well, that's how it started out, and the matter would've ended right there if it was up to me. But he insulted me, and I'll let no beast intentionally insult me without making him regret it."

"Hmm…" The shrew leader glanced from Kirk to Firglo, then back to Kirk. "You're not under my jurisdiction, Kirk, but I want yew t' promise me that this won't happen again."

Kirk nodded, his eyes shooting a glance at Firglo.

Grunting, Log-a-log tightened his grip on Firglo's shoulder. "And I'll make sure you and yer pals stay in line. Yew've caused too much trouble already. As fer the rest of yew," he raised his voice as he addressed the watching bystanders, "eat yer breakfasts and hurry up! We'll be leavin' in a few shakes of a whisker."

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After they all had finished what was left of their vittles, orders were once again passed along for the troops to pack their things and to file up. Skipper, armed with a long wooden ladle, was making sure that all of the lazy stragglers quickly shaped up.

"Alrighty, mateys, let's shake a leg, eh? Those vermin invaders won't sit there an' wait for us forever!"

Once they were all ready, King Ironspear gave the order and the long ranks of hundreds of beasts began to move forward in an organized march.

Skipper and his crew began to sing a marching song about a frog that had gone to dance with a lizard. Even though the words didn't make very much sense, the rhythm made it easier to keep in step with the other marchers.

Singing loudly, the army disappeared as they marched further through the thick woods of Mossflower.


	49. Chapter 48

**Author Note:**

 **Ha! Tricked you! You all probably thought this was going to be a Northland chapter. Normally, it would be, but I need to tie some things up at Redwall before the climax (Which is kinda taking its sweet time. But I don't want to rush it anyway, so. *Shrugs*).**

 **Now to review responses…**

 **Abrahem: I'm glad you like Kirk! Writing this chapter from his PoV has made me like him a lot more too for some reason.**

 **Why, of all the nerve! You should've popped that rude lady one on the nose! (Kidding, kidding. That probably wouldn't have ended well for both parties involved if that happened. And I guess you** _ **were**_ **apparently pretty small at the time) Yes, I tried to make sure that Firglo was an annoying little fellow, so I'm glad that you got that vibe from him.**

 **Waycaster: I'm glad you found the dream sequence gripping! I honestly wasn't sure how it would turn out. Ooh!** _ **Is**_ **the black fox from the dream Kirk's evil side? a fascinating question to be sure. And yes, what did the towers mean? ...I guess we'll have to wait and see if Ironspear accomplishes his goal to unite vermin and woodlanders. Hopefully he'll be able to do it without too much trouble.**

 **The Grey Coincidence: I know, right? Dreams can be quite useful. Yep, Kirk has basically got the Redwall version of PTSD. I personally like to switch from complete good and bad characters' PoVs, to grey ones every once in a while. Greyer characters can be a fun to write sometimes.**

 **A 'Night King', eh? Well, we'll have to see. Your guesses might not be that far off. But who knows. *shrugs* Maybe his plan is just to "spread peace and love" as you put it. XD**

 **Yes, I wanted Kirk to get into a conflict with some of the woodlanders, but I didn't want to do one of those "Mean, nasty woodlander hits the poor innocent vermin on the head for no reason" kind of deal, and I wanted it to be more realistic by making it so that both sides were at fault.**

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 **MOSSFLOWER**

Hours later, the company was halted when two hamster scouts came and reported back with news. They ran up urgently to King Ironspear, Skipper, and Log-a-log. One of them – whom Skipper recognized as the one called Goldentail – knelt before the Grey Warlord hastily.

"Your Majesty," Goldentail panted out, his cheeks red from running, "the River Moss is not far from us, but it appears that some beasts are in distress! We haven't a moment to lose if we wish to save them!"

"In distress?" The Grey Warlord said, indicating for Goldentail to rise with a quick wave of his paw. "Please explain, captain. Who are they? How can we help them? Are they in danger? How many of them are there? Hurry for fate's sake!"

"A tribe of hedgehogs –roughly a score or so I'd say– are surrounded by a group of bandits dead ahead of us. The woodlanders are backed up against the river. It's hard to see for sure how many beasts there are in all, but it appears that the vermin are winning!"

The Grey Warlord nodded then shrugged of his cloak and handed it to one of his guards. Hefting his large, iron spear, he began to call out orders to his troops.

"Grank, gather a score of our best fighters and follow me! Goldentail, you stay with the rest of the army and make sure that we're not walking into a trap when you follow us!"

The wildcat began to run off toward the area that Goldentail had pointed to, when Skipper suddenly grabbed him by the shoulder.

"Now hold on there, matey," the large otter chieftain said, "we're comin' with yew!"

King Ironspear nodded. "Alright then, keep up."

With that, he charged off, not even looking back to see if the others would follow.

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The situation was exactly like Captain Goldentail had described. The hedgehog tribe was backed against the deep, running waters of the River Moss, and with no way to cross, they were effectively trapped.

The leader of the vermin gang – a rat dressed in a large, oversized tunic that had obviously been stolen from a bigger beast – spat as he watched the skirmish. "Those spiked nuisances will think twice about trespassing on our land! Kill 'em, me buckos!" he yelled out to his vermin in encouragement, "We'll 'ave some good pickings when all of those 'edgepigs are dead!"

The rat chief had been standing safely in the back, far away from the action, so he wasn't prepared in the slightest when the large figure of King Ironspear swatted him aside with the blunt end of his spear.

"Ack!" the vermin cursed as he nursed a bruised rib. "Who in 'ellgates is that wildcat!?" He jumped up and waved his weapon in the air. "Kill 'im too, lads!"

The Grey Warlord, however, seemed to ignore the vermin's words and instead plowed through the vermin gang like they were all mere strands of wheat. Rats, weasels, and ferrets alike were sent flying as the massive wildcat jabbed, swung, and crashed his way through their ranks. The vermin were mere thugs who were used to clubbing beasts into submission. They were no match against a warrior like King Ironspear.

By the time Skipper, Log-a-log, and Ambassador Grank, along with a score of hamsters, arrived at the scene, the vermin were all but defeated. Any little courage or discipline that they might've had left was shattered into pieces when they saw that the mighty wildcat warrior had brought back-up with him. They picked up their wounded and scrambled off toward the trees, where they stood a chance at losing the woodlander pursuers.

"Don't let 'em get away!" Skipper yelled, charging after the vermin.

He was closely followed by Log-a-log. The shrew's footpaws might've been small, but he could move them quite swiftly when he needed to.

"Wait," the Grey Warlord suddenly ordered, peering at the woods where the vermin where running into. "Let them reach the trees."

Ironspear's hamsters immediately stopped dead in their tracks. The shrew and otter chieftain reluctantly did as well.

"Why are yew lettin' them get away?" Log-a-log demanded. His face scrunched up in confusion. "We should stop 'em before they go an' cause mischief somewhere else!"

The Grey Warlord surprised them when his mouth twitched upward in a grin. His eyes hadn't left the backs of the retreating robber band. Without turning his head, he held up a claw, indicating for them to watch and see.

Once the vermin had entered the trees and they saw that they weren't being pursued, they relaxed noticeably, slowly their running down to a jog. Half of the gang was already out of sight of the woodlanders.

Then it happened. There was a screech of terror, and swarm of dark shapes suddenly flew down from the trees above. Several of the winged creatures would group together and latch onto some of the smaller and lighter of the vermin. Carrying them up towards the sky, they'd simply let them drop and let gravity do its work.

The woodlanders waiting at the river's edge couldn't see everything that was going on clearly. But from what they could see and hear, they could tell that it wasn't going to end well for the vermin.

"Are…Are those yer bats, King Ironspear?" Skipper asked, leaning on his javelin as he watched the conflict beneath the trees.

"Indeed they are, my good friend."

"I don't believe it!" Log-a-log exclaimed, giving an amazed whistle. "This certainly was lucky that your bats were at the right place at the right time."

"Aye," Skipper mumbled to himself, "very lucky." He raised an eyebrow and glanced sideways at Ironspear.

"Yes." The Grey Warlord nodded. "It appears that Fate has smiled on us. Let's hope that we keep our good fortune. Now, let's meet this tribe that was so ruthlessly attacked."

The leader of the hedgehog tribe came forward and placed his weapon on the ground, then knelt to the beasts who had saved his tribe. "Thank you, oh mighty warriors. My tribe and I are forever in your debt." He made as if to bow, but then his expression became confused as he tried to figure out which individual was in charge. "Forgive me, but which one of you is the leader?"

"Um…" Skipper glanced over to his companions. "Well…"

"These two beasts and I are all co-commanders of the same rank," the Grey Warlord explained. "One isn't any higher than the other. But I do believe that I speak for us all when I say that we only did what any good creature would do."

The hedgehog rose to his footpaws then bowed again. "Is there any way that I or my tribe could help repay our debt to you?"

"Well…" King Ironspear squared his shoulders. "We are currently marching to the mountain of Salamandastron to free it from invaders. Any extra fighters would be welcome, however, feel free to refuse. No payment for what we did is needed."

"I'd have to talk with the tribe elders first, but I'm sure we'd be able to help. In fact, I'll send out messengers right away to our kin in the east, I'm certain they'd be happy to help as well, but I'll go and discuss the matter with them."

Giving a final bow, the hedgehog left.

"Well he sure seems like a nice fellow." Log-a-log remarked. "I guess something good came out of this skirmish after all."

They turned as they heard the sounds of the rest of the Redwaller and Southsward army crashing their way through the foliage of Mossflower. Hamsters, shrews, and otters – all armed to the teeth, came out of the trees cautiously, prepared for the worst. Seeing that the matter had already been resolved, they relaxed.

Out of the trees to their far right, came the bat reinforcements. They had taken most of the vermin gang captive, and pushed and prodded them toward the main body of the army.

The Guosim and Redwallers couldn't help but gape at the number of bats flying out of the trees like a dark flood of wings and fur. There were at least a thousand in all.

One of them, a bat a good deal bigger than the rest, came forward and saluted to King Ironspear.

"Captain Blake reporting, Your Majesty, Majesty, Majesty."

"At ease, captain. You did a superb job catching them by surprise like that. Once this matter with Salamandastron is taken care of, I'll be sure to reward you."

"Thank you, you, you. Though the fact that I've pleased you is reward enough, enough, enough."

Skipper had never heard an accent quite like the bat's before. His voice was high and had a screechy kind of ring to it. And it seemed that he kept repeating the last words of his sentences. The otter chieftain suddenly had a thought. "Hmm, what are we going to do with th' prisoners?" He asked, pointing a thumb-claw at the captured vermin. "We can't just kill 'em in cold blood, but we can't let 'em go either."

"Not to worry, my friend, I shall make sure it's taken care of." The Grey Warlord said, giving a meaningful nod to Blake. The bat captain nodded his head in return then flapped off back to his brigade.

"What _do_ you plan t' do with 'em?" Log-a-log asked, confused. "Do you plan to take 'em with us?"

"Oh, good gracious no, Log-a-log," the wildcat replied. "They would prove far too burdensome. Don't worry. We have a place to keep them detained. Once we've driven the vermin away from Salamandastron, I'll pick them up and bring them to Southsward with me."

"But we've got no strongholds in Mossflower that I know of?" Log-a-log said, scratching his head. "Though I guess we haven't wandered this far east yet fer a few seasons."

The Grey Warlord shrugged then changed the subject. "We need to hurry if we want to make it to the mountain in time. We've lingered far too long already. Do either of you know the best place to cross this river?"

"Aye," Skipper said, "I know a place not too far down river. There's a bridge there, an' th' water ain't near as deep or fast-flowin'."

"Alright then," King Ironspear said, heartened by the news, "After we cross there, it should hopefully be just a straight march to Salamandastron."

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 **REDWALL ABBEY**

"Who's been in my Strawberry Fizz?! Why, I'll tan whoever it was who did it! I'll rip his ears off an' make 'im eat 'em! I'll –" Boglo Spikeback, the abbey brewer and master of the Cellar, went on to say all of the many, unpleasant things that he was going to do when he found the scoundrel who was responsible for breaking one of the fine caskets of Strawberry Fizz on the stone Cellar floor.

Boglo was broad of shoulder and wide of belly. With arm muscles like iron cords from moving large barrels of drinks all day. He was normally quite the jolly fellow, but in the moment, anything jolly was far from his mind. "If you're still in here then you'd netter come out!" he called out, his deep voice booming and echoing throughout the Cellar. Hearing no sound, the hedgehog murmured under his breath and stomped off to search elsewhere for the culprit.

Barely ten seconds after he was gone, two heads popped up from behind a large barrel of wine, revealing the faces of Sam and Bergen. Both of their faces were messy and sticky (Bergen's especially).

"I can't believe that yew Redwallers are _allowed_ to steal from yer own Cellars!" Bergen exclaimed to Sam. "Where I come from, a beast could lose his paw fer doing that!"

The squirrel quickly shook his head. "Well, we're actually not really 'stealing'. I had asked Mother Mira if it was alright if I had a cup or so of Strawberry Cordial if I did some extra gardening chores. It's just that it's a lot more fun trying to sneak down here and trying to swipe it from right under Boglo's nose."

"Ah… I see." Bergen scratched his ear, a puzzled look on his face. "But you've all stolen afore, right? I mean, there must've been somethin' that yew took that didn't belong t' yew?"

"Not really… Okay, actually we _do_ pinch food from the cooling tray sometimes, but it's not like we're forbidden to. I'm pretty sure that Friar Peter and the other kitchen helpers actually enjoy it when we come down and add a bit of excitement to their dull day."

"Oh."

That sat in silence as they looked for any sign of Boglo Spikeback returning. Sam began to hum a tune quietly to himself, without even realizing that he was doing so.

"What song is that?" Bergen asked. "Is it one that yew Redwallers sing at a feast or somethin'?"

"Huh? Oh. Well, to tell you the truth, I can't remember where I first heard it, but I can't seem to get it out of my head. I asked Brother Michael if he knew what it was called and he said that he had never heard it before (and he's heard and written lots of songs, so he would know)." The squirrel let out a sigh. "Sometimes, I imagine that my mother used to sing it to me when I was a baby, but I really don't know if that's true. I've been an orphan for as long as I can remember. What about you, Bergen? Do you have any family?"

"Me? Oh sure, I've got lots of family. Say," he said, trying to change the subject, "it seems like that fat hedgepig isn't going t' come back. Let's sneak out of here while th' gettin' is good."

"Um, okay! Follow me."

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Later that day, Bergen made his way to the south wall. After glancing around to make sure that nobeast was watching, he hid behind an upturned wheelbarrow and added a new item to his bag of loot. He had quite the collection already: a small bag of candied chestnuts, a few copper coins, an expensive looking goblet, and a pair of earrings that he had swiped from one of the bedrooms when Sam had given him a tour of the dormitories where he would be staying.

Bergen shoved his bag of loot back under the wheelbarrow. He wouldd need to find a new hiding place soon, just in case any of the Redwallers needed to use the wheelbarrow. He doubted they would though, it was old and it looked like one of the wheels was ready to fall off.

Grinning to himself, he mentally patted himself on the back. After all, it wasn't just anybeast who could swipe this many things in such a short amount of time.

Whistling innocently, he stood up and began to walk back to the abbey.

 _Gee, these Redwallers sure are dumb._ Bergen smirked. _Why, I bet that in a few weeks I'll have enough treasures to build my own_ _abbey!_ The rat looked down at his clothes. The front of his shirt was still covered with strawberry cordial. "Hmm, I forgot about that…" he mused aloud to himself. "Wouldn't want anybeast findin' me with all this 'ere sticky pink stuff on me shirt." Noticing a soft puddle of mud, he was struck with an idea. "'Ere we go, this'll do just perfect!" Grabbing a few pawfuls, he rubbed it over the cordial stains. "There! Now nobeast will know nothin'!"

After admiring his work a bit, he decided to go over to the abbey gardens. Maybe he could find some vittles there or some other swipeable items.

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A group of Dibbuns were playing in the orchards under the watchful gaze of Mother Mira. She sat impassively on an old stump, making sure that the youngsters behaved. Every now and then, she would let out a sharp bark.

"Jarro, put that stick down this instant! Treff, stop pulling out clumps of grass or you'll get your fresh smock all dirty."

"Yes, Mother Mira!"

After the two Dibbuns had complied, the badger mother let out a sigh and relaxed, the warm sun rippling through her fur. Everything was orderly, peaceful, and relatively quiet. All was as it should be.

Her eyes had only just begun to close when her nose suddenly detected an extremely powerful odor. "Great Seasons!" the badger mother exclaimed, jumping up from her seat, "where's that horrid smell coming from?"

None of the Dibbuns replied to her question. Instead, they were staring open-mouthed at Bergen, smiles plastered on their faces as they gaped at him. The young rat was munching on a piece of garlic. The smell of the plant, normally quite powerful on its own, was magnified by Bergen's natural odor as well.

He stopped mid-chomp and looked puzzledly at the staring Redwallers. "What's wrong with yew? Y' all look like yew've seen a ghost 'r somethin'."

Mother Mira took one good long glance at his muddy clothes and that, added with the fact that his smell could choke a maggot, helped her decide that it was time that the rat was introduced to a bar of soap and a scrubber.

"Ahem, Bergen," the badger mother said, trying to remain calm as she walked over to him casually, "When is the last time that you've had a bath?"

"I can proudly say that I've never 'ad a bath afore in my life!" Bergen replied, holding his head proudly in the air, "Why do ask?"

"Huh, I could've guessed," Mira mumbled quietly. Throwing a friendly paw over Bergen's shoulders, she half led, half propelled him in the direction of the main abbey building. "Let's go for a little walk, shall we?"

000000000000000

"No! I'm beggin' yew, 'ave mercy! I-I don't wanna bath!"

"You can choose. Either you go with Brother Gregory right now or I'll thrown you into the pond and wash you myself, clothes and all!"

Mother Mira had Bergen firmly clasped by the arm as she dragged him toward the abbey. The young rat had practically gone beserk when he had figured out that the badger mother was handing him over to one of monks so that Bergen could be given a hot bath and a change of clothes.

"B-but it's unhealthy! Get yer filthy paws off me! I haven't done anything wrong!"

"It's for your own good. In fact, it's for the good of all of Redwall! We'll make a regular gentlebeast out of you yet. If you go calmly, I might ask Friar Peter to bake you a treat as a reward, just for you."

Throwing the smaller creature over her shoulder, she started carrying him off, Brother Gregory following in their wake. The monk thought it best to remain silent for the time being, at least until the vermin had hopefully calmed down somewhat.

"NOOOOO!" Bergen screamed as he pounding his fists on Mira's back. Though, it was like a butterfly trying to knock down a mighty oak tree. "Please! Please! _Please!_ I'm scared of soap 'n' water! I don't know 'ow t' swim! I'll drown!"

"Nonsense," Brother Gregory smiled kindly. "We're only putting you in a knee-deep tub. You couldn't drown in that even if you tried. Why, I'll bet you'll smell as good as roses when you're all nice and clean."

"But it's harder t' 'ide from beasts if yew smell like roses!" Bergen protested loudly.

"And why would you need to hide from beasts?" Mother Mira grunted. They had almost made it to the abbey.

"I, uh…" Bergen went silent. Mother Mira took that as a good sign.

Just as the three of them made it to abbey building, one of the mouse sisters came running up urgently, calling the badger mother's name.

"Mira, there you are! I've been looking all over for you! Come quick, Brother Michael and Sister Julia said for you to come right away!" The mouse panted breathlessly as she ran over to the badger. "I think it has something to do with the abbot!"

Dropping Bergen unceremoniously onto the ground, the badger mother thundered off with a speed of a hare.

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"What is it? What's happened to the abbot?" Mother Mira asked urgently as she crashed into the room where they had put Abbot Daniel when they had moved him out of the Infirmary. She was utterly shocked to see none other than the abbot himself sitting up in his bed. Brother Michael and Sister Julia were standing beside him.

Brother Michael quickly held up both paws. "He's better, Mother Mira! I don't know what kind of herbs that that vixen used, but she saved our abbot! I wish Sellena was here right now so I could thank her!"

Mother Mira was speechless. "I-I think I need to sit down."

Abbot Daniel smiled from his sitting position. "Here, my dear friend, come sit on the bed beside me," He gave a cough and patted the soft mattress. "Just make sure you don't crush my poor footpaws." He winked.

The badger accepted his offer and sat down at the foot of the bed as daintily as she could, the old boards creaking under her weight.

"So what's all happened since I was sleeping?" Abbot Daniel turned to Brother Michael. "And how long was I unconscious? Is that Grey Warlord creature still here?"

The squirrel recorder gave a humored huff. "Heh, let's just say there is a lot that you need to catch up on, Father Abbot…"


	50. Chapter 49

**Author Note:**

 **Waycaster 49: Yes, surprise! (To tell you the truth though, the 'surprise' was totally accidental. XD) It was kinda intentional that Ironspear's fighting skills were rather vague. Heck, almost** _ **everything**_ **about him is supposed to be vague in some way. Hmm, just hopefully not** _ **too**_ **much…**

 **Abrahem 49: Hopefully Bergen won't steal too much (That could make things rather awkward all around if the Redwallers found his "treasures" that he's been stealing. XD) Yep, I have plans for Bergen's family…maybe one day, I'll write a drabble about it. (Or maybe just reveal in TGW. Whichever comes first, I guess. XD)**

 **The Grey Coincidence 49: Those are some great theories there, Grey! Literally, so many of them are such good guesses. Wither they are true or false shall remain a secret for now, but they're still very good all the same. Yep, the Abbot sure has a lot to catch up on…**

 **Keva Strongbow 48-49: I'm glad you liked the dream! I was personally rather proud of how it shaped up. Hmm, the bats just might be 'indebted to Ironspear'. We shall have to wait and see though.**

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 **ON THE RIVER**

The moon cast its pale light on the boats as they floated downriver. Most of the creatures on the boats were asleep. Those that weren't were either rowing, or standing guard. All that could be heard was the soft sound of paddles rising and falling, droplets dripping quietly off them, while making the water ripple in their wake. On the dark shore, the trees' branches bent and swayed to the wind.

Tragg was awoken when his scarred eye began to throb with pain, causing tears to form. Wiping his eye briefly, he mumbled quietly to himself and tried to shuffle himself into a better sleeping position. His eye creaked open as he realized that it would be a while before he could fall back asleep. He glanced and saw the prone shape of Flugg sleeping beside him.

Tragg groaned inwardly as Flugg began to snore. _Now I'll never get any sleep._ As he waited for the peaceful realm of dreams to come once again and claim him, his mind wandered. _I wonder if Rosebud and the others are sleeping wherever they are._

It had been six days since the mole attack and Dunagan's escape. The slavers forced some of the woodlander slaves to help with the paddling. Bertvar apparently didn't trust the slaves enough to leave very many untied for long, so they only had to do the day shifts, leaving the nights to the river rats.

Tragg twitched his nose and turned onto his other side. He was startled as he saw that Tilda wasn't sleeping either. Keeping his eyes half way closed, he tried to figure out what the other shrew was doing. She was leaning up slightly, not enough to attract attention from the others. He watched as she pulled out a small packet and peeked in at the contents.

 _What is she up to?_ He was tempted to ask her, but then one of the slavers walked past them on his way to the front of the raft. He was thinking about adding in a few fake snores, but then he decided that that would be overdoing it and he didn't want to attract any unwanted attention.

The slaver slipped on a pile of rope and stumbled, letting out a curse. Continuing to mumble under his breath, he pulled himself up and resumed, this time making sure to mind the swaying deck of the raft.

Once the sound of his loud footfalls had gone silent, Tragg opened his eyes and looked over at Tilda again. She seemed to be sleeping peacefully, her face practically glowing with innocence.

 _Hmm, she's a good actor._ Tragg's eyes narrowed slightly. _What is she hiding? Did she swipe that packet from one of the guards?_ The shrew shrugged the matter off as he felt tiredness finally catching up with him. Whatever Tilda was hiding, he was certain that she'd show them in the morning. _And what if she doesn't?_ A voice inside Tragg's head taunted for a second.

 _What would she have to hide?_ Tragg countered. _And besides, if she doesn't tell us on her own, then I'll just ask her._

Giving a small yawn, he fell asleep.

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The hot morning sun caused Tragg to wipe his brow hastily in between strokes with his pole. He and Flugg had unexpectedly been assigned to relieve some of the other raft rowers.

Flugg glanced over to his cousin, noticing his red eyes and his weary movements. "Hey, Tragg, did ye get much sleep last night? Ye look awful."

"Nae really. A certain somebody was snorin' too loud last night." The shrew raised an eyebrow slightly.

"Wait… I _snore_? I didnae know that. Heh, learn somethin' knew every day, I guess. I'm sorry if I kept ye up."

"Ach," Tragg mumbled under his breath, "That's comforting." He quickly grinned to show he was joking.

Flugg rolled his eyes. "I mean, it's nae like _I_ can do anythin' about it. I need my beauty sleep just like everybeast else. Its nae my fault I happen tae snore."

Tragg would have grinned and said something along the lines of, _Yes, judging by your looks, I can see why you would need your 'beauty sleep'_ , but the shrew's muscles were burning and he was running out of breath. Their tribe had rarely needed to use rafts, so his arms weren't used to punting with these long poles.

After he had caught his breath, Tragg looked over at Tilda. The pretty shrew was gazing out toward the shore as it slid by, her back turned to Tragg and Flugg. Now that the two cousins had "volunteered to help" (as the slavers nicely put it), she didn't have anybeast to talk to.

Tragg had forgotten to ask her about the packet, but even when he remembered, he decided that he probably shouldn't ask her anyway. After all, it wasn't like the young maiden wasn't allowed to have her own secrets.

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"Things are going to get a little rough up ahead."

Chief Bugfoot was crouched over a map. Bertvar had asked when they would make it to the Western Shore. The rat chieftain had decided to show him instead of just telling him.

"There'll be a series of rapids after a few more bends 'r so," Bugfoot continued, pointing at the map. "It'll calm down a bit more around 'ere though." He gestured with his paw.

"And why didn't you tell me this before exactly?"

Bugfoot rolled up the map and chuckled. "Because yew never asked! Pfft, obviously."

"Mm. Well I'm guessing that your alternative motive had something to do with the obvious fact that I would've been more reluctant to pay, at least, until I was sure that _all_ of my cargo arrived at our destination."

"My, my, y' are a clever wolf aren't ya? I guess yew _are_ known fer being clever fer a reason. As a fellow beast who works in th' world of business, I'm sure yew'd understand why I'd rather not spill out _all_ of my knowledge of th' river."

"I suppose. However, my interests come first. So tell me, just how bad are these upcoming rapids?"

"Well, most river beasts would call 'em pretty bad, but most of us will probably make it iffen we take th' right precautions."

"What do you mean by 'most of us', and what kind of precautions?"

"Oh, there _is_ a slight chance that some of th' weaker crafts will sink. Must've gotten a lot of rain upstream 'cause even the river right 'ere is moving faster 'n' usual, a lot faster."

Bertvar tapped his chin thoughtfully. "So what do you propose we do? After all, you're supposed to be the expert in these matters? Do you have a plan ready for this situation?"

"Of course I do! All we need t' do is 'ave all of th' beasts that aren't busy punting or paddling t' unload right before the rapids. Once, or if, we make it down safely, then they can just meet up with us downriver a ways, see?"

The wolf's ears twitched. "That actually sound like a pretty good plan...for once. I think we shall try it."

"Well, most of my plans do end up workin' in th' end. That's why I was chosen t' be chief!"

Bertvar gave a fanged smile. "Oh yes, that's right. I've heard many different stories about how _that_ incident came to be. Strange, isn't it, how a skilled water beast like the late Chief Doombrush just 'happened' to fall out of a boat and drown. A most convenient tragedy to be sure."

Bugfoot was silent for a moment as he glared at Bertvar. He finally broke the silence with a snort. "Hmph, Doombrush was an idiot who didn't deserve t' be chief. I'd say that it was Fate 'erself who decided t' get rid of the ol' coot. Besides, I know these rivers better than that scrawny bag of bones anyways."

With his head held high in a false sense of injured dignity, Bugfoot went over to the side of the boat and began snapping out orders for the other vermin to prepare to disembark once he gave the signal.

Bertvar watched the rat with hooded eyes. Being a creature who was used to dealing with smugglers and the like, Bertvar could tell that Bugfoot was the kind of beast that it would be best to keep a wary eye on. If the rat proved to be too untrustworthy or greedy than was good for him in the future, the wolf slavermaster wouldn't hesitate to take over his tribe.

 _But I'll cross that bridge when I get there_ , Bertvar thought, resting a paw on his scimitar's hilt. _Right now, I need to make sure that that fool doesn't sink his boats before we make it to the sea._

As the fleet of rivercraft rounded the bend, their occupants were utterly unaware of the fact that two pairs of cold, hungry eyes were watching them from the shore.

From behind the cover of the thick trees, one of the mysterious creatures blinked and nodded to his companion. "Methinks we found food. Tasty, fresh, and wiggly food."

The other beast licked his lips in response. "Let's go tell the others. We shall feast well tonight."

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 **ON THE SHORE**

Elmblade stiffened as he heard a sound coming from the tree beside him. Jumping from the branch that he was perched on to a more concealed one, he tilted his ears up as he listened, his senses alert.

He waited in complete silence until he heard the sound again. He moved his paw slowly to the handle of his dagger. There was the sound of something fluttering, and the squirrel let out a brief sigh of relief as a woodpecker revealed itself and flew off into the sky.

 _Heh, it was only a bird. Honestly, being a forward scout is a little more tensing than I thought._ Elmblade grinned to himself and tucked his dagger back into his belt. Leaning back onto his legs, he used them to spring forward into the next tree, and then another, and yet another.

When Lord Nightwrath and his mole trackers had found signs that a large company of vermin and woodlanders had loaded up onto boats of some sort and presumably left down river, Rones and Rosebud had practically burst.

"Do ye think Tragg an' Flugg were wit' 'em?" Rosebud had asked excitedly, practically trembling from the news. "If they are, then we simply must go after them!"

"Now hold on, young lass," Lord Nightwrath had interrupted, holding up a paw, "I'm not sure if that would be quite wise. After all, I'm not exactly popular anymore in these parts. If any of your squirrel friend's kin" – he gestured to Elmblade – "found out that I had left my mountain with a force of any sort, they'd probably run about spreading rumors that I'm out to conquer the Northlands."

"Mae kin wouldn't do no such thing!" Emblade had protested. The badgerlord had merely given him a long stare until the squirrel finally shrugged. "Okay, so maybe they would. But it's like ye 'aven't given us reason not tae be suspicious of ye?"

Before Nightwrath could reply, Rones had quickly interrupted. "I'm sorry, but couldn't ye both talk about this another time? My son might be out there, sailin' tae who knows were, an' ye're both sittin' 'ere an' arguin'?!"

Lord Nightwrath took a few moments to talk to his mole commanders. After a brief and slightly heated conference, he had come back and announced that he would take a force of four hundred moles and follow the slavers. If fate willing, they caught up in time, he'd hopefully be able to stop Bertvar's slave trade business once and for all.

Elmblade's mind was drawn back to the present as he caught sight of the river. He had been climbing through the woods alongside the running water, where the trees were thinker and easier to climb. Seeing nobeast, he gave a sigh of disappointment and dropped down onto the ground, landing on all fours to take the momentum out of his drop.

"Nothin'," he grumbled under his breath, "Nae a sign of nobeast! Honestly, ye'd think that they 'ad disappeared off th' –" He gave a sudden intake of breath as he caught a glimpse of movement upriver, just out of the corner of his eye. He turned, his fur bristling.

A few short moments later, the squirrel was once again flying through the tree tops. At last, they had caught up with the slavers' boats. He needed to tell the others!

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Everything was silent on the river. It wasn't until they had passed one more bend that they could hear a deep, mighty sound like thunder up ahead. A few strokes later, they saw where the sound was coming from.

They had arrived at the rapids.

Large ripples of water were smashed against large rocks sticking out of the stream like long claws: Claws that wished to grab unwary beasts and suck them down to a watery grave. A thin mist hovered in the air over the pounding current. The south side of the shore was a sheer rock bluff.

"Well isn't that an eye-opener." Flugg gave a low whistle. "I sure 'ope that they don't plan on makin' us go down that."

"No, slave," a voice said from behind the two shrews. It was Grunner. The weasel was eyeing the rapids ahead. "Luckily, that's not what Bertvar wants us t' do. Thank th' Fates fer that! Wouldn't wanna go down those." He turned and slapped one of the river rats on the back. "We'll leave that t' the likes of yew! I hope y' all 'ave fun!" He threw his head back and laughed.

One of the rats, however, merely shrugged. "I'd be a little more worried about yerself, mate. We get th' easy part, sailin' on down the rapids. You and th' rest of yer slaver pals will 'ave t' carry th' cargo through that swamp over there." He pointed a claw to the north shore. The vegetation was too thick for Grunner to see much, but from what he could tell, the rat could be right.

"'Ellgates," He said, spitting over the side of the raft, "Yew ain't kiddin' there."

Chief Bugfoot gave the order, and all of the rafts and canoes landed onto the north shore. Once they had unloaded all of the extra weight, including all of the slaves, they once again pushed off.

From on shore, Bertvar the Slavemaster stood impassively as he watched the river rats pull away.

"Don't worry 'bout nothin'!" Chief Bugfoot called out to him from his vessel. "We've got everythin' taken care of on our end. Just make sure that y' meet us at th' end of the rapids. Got that?"

"Yes." The wolf replied smoothly. "Just don't sink too many of the boats. I still need them."

Bugfoot didn't reply. He was too busy directing his boat and calling out advice to his fellow rats. "Paddle, y' yellow-bellied tadpoles, paddle I say! Bring 'er about dead center! We'll hit 'em head on!"

Giving whoops and shouts, the boats disappeared one by one into the raging waters.

"We have no time to lose." Bertvar gave a nod to Furgly the fox. "Send a few scouts up ahead that are experts in this sort of terrain. Bugfoot warned me this is a swamp. And where there's a swamp, there's usually toads and the like. I hear that the reptiles around these parts will go so far as to eat furred beasts. I'd rather not have to deal with that right now."

The vermin ushered the slaves in a group in the center and then, after having secured them by tying all of them by the wrists with a long rope, they entered the marsh.


	51. Chapter 50

**Author Note:**

 **Waycaster 50: Yeah… I had mixed feeling about the last chapter, but like you said, it is setting things up for the next one. It's one of those kind of chapters that, as a writer (And most likely a reader), you wish you could skip and go right to the good stuff, but alas, such is a book. You must one if you want the other.**

 **The Grey Coincidence 50: Hmm, you've definitely got a point there. I actually hadn't realized how similar they were until you pointed that out. Well, I can safely say that things aren't going to stay too similar for long. (I'd say more, but I think I'll just let you read this first segment and find out for yourself. ;-D ) Yes, *Rubs hands gleefully* just what** _ **is**_ **in Tilda's packet? Could be many things… But your guesses are quite good.**

 **Abrahem 50: I hope you had a great Thanksgiving as well, Abe! Mine was awesome, thank you for asking. :-D. So you don't think Bugfoot killed the previous chief, eh? Interesting… Not a bad guess though. I'm glad that you like how I mention his scarred eye. (I want to make sure that the casual readers don't forget the incident or anything. XD)**

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 **IN THE SWAMP**

The creatures in the swamp, slave and master alike, couldn't help but notice the gloominess in the air. Its very thickness seemed to crush down on them. The overhanging branches and vines were too thick to let in much sunlight, thus casting the path ahead with shadows.

Bertvar ducked under a low branch as he led his group. He suddenly stopped, his nose sniffing the air. Some sixth sense was telling him that something wasn't quite right about this place. He tightened his hold on his scimitar. Whoever it was, he hoped that they wouldn't try anything. After all, the slavers had strength in numbers, and just the mere size of a wolf was normally a strong discouragement to potential enemies.

The Slavemaster was flanked on either side by Furgly and Grunner. The two sub-captains were bickering … again. His patience was wearing thin with their constant arguing. He was about to snap at them to hold their tongues when he suddenly heard something in the trees to their right.

He stopped so suddenly that Furgly, who was too distracted to notice his master's abrupt halt, bumped into him.

"Listen, Grunner, if yew honestly think – Oof! Oh, beg yer pardon, Bertvar. I didn't –"

"Quiet," the massive wolf hissed, holding up his paw for silence. The rest of the party stopped dead in their tracks, glancing nervously at each other, worry plain on their faces.

Bertvar sniffed the air again. Narrowing his eyes, he drew his sword and pointed to a patch of shrubbery in the middle of a large pool of green ooze. "Archers, send a volley into that bush over there! Quickly!"

All the nearest vermin that were armed with bows of any kind scrambled forward. Notching arrows to their bowstrings, they sent a cloud of arrows whistling into the area that Bertvar had gestured at. Volley after volley pounded into the shrubbery, reducing it to a skeleton of branches, their leaves ripped off by the arrows.

"Cease!" Bertvar walked forward a few steps and then stopped, peering intently at the surrounding area. There was nothing to be seen.

Bertvar looked around the swamp once more. The silence seemed to mock him. Muttering under his breath, the wolf snapped out for the march to continue.

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The feeling that they were being watched didn't leave as the group pressed forward. The bog had thickened out in some places, and grew more open in others, though, the open areas were normally impassible, due to the marsh mud. They tread carefully around them. Nobeast wanted to find out what would happen if they fell in.

One of the slaves, a vole toddler, stumbled over beside Tragg and clutched his arm weakly, before collapsing onto the ground. It was only when the shrew bent down to help him back up, that he realized that the hedgehog was dead. His eyes glazed over.

"I had seen that young one before," Tilda whispered to Tragg, patting him comfortingly on the shoulder. He was shocked at the hopeless tone in her voice. "He always seemed to be coughing and sickly." She continued, "This forced march was too much for him."

Tragg remained silent and pushed on. _I know father said that a good chief is merciful, but I guess then I wouldn't make a good chief. I'd kill any slaver that I found if I got away. How can beasts be this cruel?_ He remembered one of Broge's sayings: 'A beast who is powered by greed, can do the unthinkable.' _He now saw what he meant._

It felt like they had been in the bog for seasons now. Swarms of bugs added to their discomfort as they pressed further on.

They were passing through a narrow channel between two small areas filled with thick mud, when a startled cry suddenly rang out from the rear.

"Toads! We're being attacked!"

Two weasels and one of the slaves suddenly dropped to the ground as they were hit by short spears. Frogs, newts, lizards, and toads rose from the green shrubbery around them, like ghosts in the dead of night, armed with spears and long poles with wickedly curved blades on the top.

"Forward, soldiers!" Bertvar yelled, kicking a skinny lizard in his way. "Run for your lives!"

"But what about th' slaves?" one of the slave drivers asked. He suddenly jerked and fell over backwards, a sharpened throwing reed sticking out of his throat.

Bertvar inwardly cursed at the decision he was being forced to make, but yelled out anyway. "Leave the slaves unless you want to stay here and die with them!"

The reptiles had massed into a barrier of slimy flesh, effectively blocking their way out. Bertvar, however, wasn't going to be stopped. Bulling his way forward, he led the charge. Kicking out with legs, he broke a lizard's neck while he yelled out to his slavers. "We can do it! Keep going! The swamp thins out just ahead!"

The toads might've had numbers, but they vermin were fighting for their very lives. Their desperation, and Bertvar's prodding, finally turned the tide.

One of the slaves had grabbed one of their captors' fallen weapons and had gone about freeing the others by cutting away at the main rope that held them all together. In the beginning of the ambush, the woodlanders had been dropping like flies. With no protection, and with limited movement, they were sitting ducks.

Flugg was armed with a whip and a long dagger from one of the dead foxes. "Here, Tragg!" he yelled, tossing his cousin one of the fallen spears, "Take this! We need to form ranks! It's our only chance!"

"How the fur are we going to do that?" Tilda asked, pulling out a short knife from her tunic pocket. "None of the others are trained soldiers."

 _Where did that come from?_ Tragg wondered, looking at the knife in Tilda's paw. _Did she have that this whole time?_ Tragg gasped as he only just managed to dodge a thrown trident. "We 'ave tae group up in a circle, otherwise, th' toads will jus' pick us off one by one!"

"Okay then." Tilda picked up a heavy branch. "Let's do it!"

Together, the three shrews scrambled through the chaos.

"Grab a weapon an' stick together!" Tragg grabbed a terrified mouse and yelled into his face. "We all need tae stand together an' make a wall!"

"We have tae fight!" Flugg shouted at the others, "Come on! It's kill or be killed! Put th' young ones in th' middle!"

The slaves, realizing that there was little else to do, began to pick up fallen or make-shift weapons and bunched together.

"Now what?" one of the woodlanders asked as another slave fell to the toads' weapons.

"We move as one. If we split up, then none of us will make it!" Tragg had to blink and rub his injured eye as mud splattered on it. He wiped it, tearing off his bandage as he did.

"Come on then, chaaaaarge!"

The mob of yelling woodlanders came crashing down onto the reptiles blocking their way. The amphibians were beaten back by the sheer desperation of the slaves. To the frogs, this battle was merely a means to find food, to the woodlanders, this was a matter of life and death. Failure wasn't an option.

"Fall back!" The largest of the toads croaked, stabbing an otter in the chest with a trident, "We have enough of their dead to last us for seasons. Retreat!"

Most of the reptiles fell back into the trees at the toad's words. They continued throwing their spears at the woodlanders, causing many to fall, never to rise again.

A few of the lizards ignored their leader's orders. Their fighting blood was up, and they were prepared to make the slaves' escape a bloody deal for both sides.

Tragg ran up to one and, dodging its teeth, plunged his weapon into its long neck.

 _We're going to make it!_ No sooner had he thought those words when suddenly, he saw something move like lightning out of the corner of his eye. An object crashed into the back of his head.

The young shrew collapsed to the ground. His vision blurred as his world turned black. _Is this really how it would end?_ He mused, though it seemed like his thoughts were coming from far away. _After everything I've been through, I never thought I'd be killed by an overgrown reptile. What would –…_

Then, giving a sigh, his eyes closed and everything disappeared.

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Tragg's eyes suddenly snapped open. As he did, he instantly regretted it as his good eye scrunched up in pain from the sudden light. Everything looked so unclear to the shrew.

He was on a stretcher, being carried by two, large, tall beasts. For a horrible second, he thought that he was back with the slavers again. That theory was crushed when one of the blurry beasts barked out in a booming voice.

"Hey there, matey, ye 'ave quite th' bump there, so I wouldn't suggest moving too much." The creature – who Tragg finally made out to be an otter, both by his accent and his size, called out, "Baglarr, this one's awake!"

Tragg leaned on his elbows and arched his head up so he could see more. From his limited vision, he could see all of the other slaves that had survived the swamps around him, accompanied by fearsome looking otters dressed in kilts and bearing weapons. They were all on a sandy plain that stretched out as far as he could see. Judging from the sun, they were heading south-east toward a range of hills, and looming high above everything else, was the shape of a mountain.

He turned and saw that one of the otters had replied to his companion's call, as he came over.

"Hello there, shrew,"Baglarr said, smiling, "Your name was Tragg, wasn't it? I think so… That's what your friends called ye at least."

Realization hit Tragg like a thunderbolt. _Flugg! Tilda!_ "Wait a minute!" he said, "Where are my friends? Are they alright?"

"Relax, matey," Baglarr replied, his voice soft and gentle, "Don't worry. I'll go ask around, maybe your friends are close by. Okay? Now calm down an' sit still. It's my job t' make sure that everythin' is nice an' peaceful during this march. Ye wouldn't want me t' get in trouble, would ye?"

It was only after Tragg had nodded and promised to settle down, did Baglarr leave in search of the shrew's companions. He returned a little bit later with a familiar face.

"Tilda!" Tragg breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank th' Fates that ye're alright! Where's Flugg? Is he alright? What happened in the swamp?"

Tilda walked alongside him, her face beaming. "Oh you should've seen him, Tragg! Once Flugg saw you go down in the fighting, he practically went berserks! Why, I'll bet he killed a score of toads when he fought his way to your side!" Her eyes misted as she recalled the battle. "We were almost through those horrid creatures' ranks when you fell. I wasn't sure if we were going to make it, but then Baglarr and his otters suddenly came out of nowhere. They saved our lives!"

Baglarr shook some of the sand from his footpaws as he took up the tale. "Well, ye all did most of th' job for us. Those toads were practically already runnin' for their lives before they even so much as caught our scent." He smirked grimly. "Many of 'em will never 'arm innocent travelers again, I can tell ye that. Apparently your former captors 'ad a worse time of it then ye all did. Some of our scouts spotted them at the edge of the swamp."

The otter snorted. "We would've given 'em a few spears in the tail t' help 'em on their merry way, but we're going to need to be at full strength." He paused. "Hopefully they'll go back t' wherever they came from. That wolf feller looks like he could cause some serious damage if he got close enough t' us with that cleaver of his."

"But _where_ is Flugg?"

"He's resting," Tilda replied, "He suffered an injury when he was carrying you to safety. Don't worry, the healers said that his wounds might leave some nasty scars, but they're not life threatening."

"I 'ave tae go see 'im." Tragg said simply, his tone brooking no argument. "I want to make sure he's alright."

Tragg swung his legs over the stretcher and slid off. One of the stretcher-bearers made as if to grab him, but Baglarr waved his fellow otter aside dismissively.

"It's alright, mate," he said, "If he is strong enough t' walk then let him walk. I'd feel th' same if I was him."

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They found Flugg on one of the stretchers when the group stopped temporarily, for a water break. Flugg was sleeping peacefully. Tilda explained that the healers had given him herbs so that he would be able to rest. His left arm was covered with cuts, and Tragg could see that he had a bruise and a small gnash on his forehead as well.

Baglarr walked over to the shrews. He seemed to be the one in charge of the otters, and made sure that all of the wounded woodlanders were taken care of.

"Where are we headed?" Tragg asked him, wiping the sweat from above his eyes, "Do ye 'ave a holt nearby?"

"Well, yes, but we're actually marchin' _away_ from it. I was sent by Chief Bonecrusher t' ask th' other otter clans for help. We received word that the mountain fortress of Salamandastron is under attack by vermin. The chief said to round up as many beasts as we could. It's lucky that we bumped into you all when we did."

Tilda tilted her head to the side slightly. "So what are we going to do when we get to this Salamand-whatever-you-call-it place?"

"I guess that's really up t' you." Baglarr shrugged. "We'll send the weak and wounded beasts t' the Rogue Crew's Holt where they should be safe."

"Hmm, so how are we going tae help ye fight th' vermin?"

Baglarr inwardly smiled at his words. Even though the young shrew's eye and other wounds still needed to heal, the thought of staying behind apparently hadn't occurred to him. If it wasn't that they were so low on numbers, Baglarr wouldn't have hesitated to send him and the other newly-freed slaves to safety. Alas, such was war.

"Like I said, it's up t' ye to decide for yourselves," the otter replied. He pointed a claw ahead. "We'll be joinin' up with the chief soon. Your decisions need to be made up before then."

Tragg and Tilda both gazed out where he had indicated. Though they were still a little ways away yet, the size of the extinct volcano was evident, dwarfing everything surrounding it.

"What are ye all lookin' at?"

Tragg almost jumped out of his fur with surprise. Tragg turned abruptly to see Flugg's eyes flutter open drowsily on the stretcher beside him. The shrew was obviously still affected by the sleeping herbs, but that didn't stop him from sitting up, clutching the sides of the moving stretcher with his paws for balance.

"Flugg! Ye're alright!" Tragg grabbed his cousin's paw and shook it up and down in a blurring motion. "Tilda told me what happened! Ye saved my life–"

"Just hold on there," Flugg interrupted, grinning from ear to ear. "Honestly, I knew ye could babble as fast as a brook, but this is jus' ridiculous." The shrew was blushing from Tragg's words of gratitude, even more so with Tilda watching.

Flugg squinted his eyes and he looked around. He held up a claw. "Besides, we have more important things to discuss." He gazed at them seriously for a brief moment, his face completely straight. "When are we eatin'? I'm starved!"

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Bertvar and his creatures had regrouped at a crop of rocks on the outer part of the swamps. Some of them were wounded and couldn't go on any further. Bertvar sent out scouts to find the river.

The wolf slaver looked around at his weary band. Putting a fake cheerful expression on his face, he nodded his head to Furgly. "What are we all sitting around for? We made it! Sure, things could've gone better. But hey, at least we're not dead! Crack out the rations! We'll eat well for the time being."

Grunner and several of his personal goons led the others in a ragged cheer.

As Furgly, along with others who could cook decently, began to empty out the bags of vittles. The food that could be eaten uncooked was quickly passed out while they prepared a quick meal.

"Are ye sure about this?" Furgly slid past the other vermin and stood beside Bertvar. "Shouldn't we be rationin' the vittles? I mean, not that I question your judgment or anything," he swiftly added, "But ye know…"

"I think we can spare a little food." Bertvar's gaze swept over his slaver band as they shoved and pushed each other to get to the better pickings. "This will be good for moral."

Just then, a ferret scout came running up to Bertvar, his face in a nervous expression.

"Ah." Bertvar smiled, prepared for some good news at last. "Did you find the stream? Are Chief Bugfoot and his rats still waiting for us? Did you tell him we made it? Come on, speak up."

"Uh, yes. Well no, I mean…" The scout gulped as the gigantic wolf narrowed his eyes. "What I mean is, I found th' river! An' yes, Bugfoot _was_ there."

Bertvar's previous good mood was fading fast as a pile of suspicions began to grow within him. "What do you mean he ' _was_ ' there? Answer me truthfully or your death will be quite unpleasant."

The scout didn't doubt that he meant every word. He began to babble as he explained. "Well, ye see, I followed along th' outside of th' swamp until I found where the river came out. Bugfoot was waiting there with his rats an' th' boats. He, uh, asked me where th' rest of us were, an' I told him everythin' that happened. He heard about how we had lost th' slaves an' all that, then told his rats t' leave. Sayin' something how 'it wasn't really worth it, anyways'." The ferret began to tremble. "Honestly, Boss, if I had known– Gluh!"

The ferret's footpaws flailed uselessly as Bertvar lifted him off the ground by his neck, the wolf's mighty paws tightening around his throat. "He what?! That treacherous scum! Where did he go? I'll flay his hide!"

"Gah! I –uh!– can't…breath!"

Bertvar released him and dropped the smaller creature onto the ground. "Well?" he shouted.

"He went down river!" The ferret rubbed his neck and took a few paces back. "Please, Boss! It's not my fault!"

He broke off as Bertvar suddenly shot his fist out and punched him in the forehead. The ferret's eyes rolled back until only the white was showing, then went limp and collapsed. Out cold.

"I should've guessed something like this would've happened. Though I didn't think it would be so soon," Bertvar growled aloud to himself. All of the rest of the vermin were now watching him with wide eyes.

"Well then, let's pack up. We don't need those water scum anyway. We have some slaves to catch."


	52. Chapter 51

**Author Note:**

 **I really enjoyed writing this chapter (In fact, this is one of the few chapters that I wrote in one day straight), so I hope you all like it!**

 **Waycaster: Yep, thought it was about time my name was correct grammar-wise. Though, it's weird sometimes because I'm used to seeing it the other way. XD *Dramatic drumroll* Yes, I do believe that this is the first time that reptiles have appeared in TGW. I doubt that we'll get to see them again, but who knows, we might. I'm glad that you found Baglarr interesting! And no, I haven't introduced him before chapter 50. He's a new guy. :-P**

 **Abrahem: Oh, so you** _ **did**_ **think that Bugfoot killed the other chieftain. I see. That makes a lot more sense now that I think about it. :-P Thank you for pointing out the vole/hedgehog thing, btw, my editor and I must've missed it the first time 'round. XD Yep, after a few reunions and such, the plot should lead all/most of the PoVs to Salamandastron. Btw, I like your word ["Beastanity."] XD**

 **The Grey Coincidence: Glad I caught ya by surprise! Oh man, that would be awkward if Nightwrath and co sailed across the seas and then figured out that Tragg and the others were free and running about on the mainland. XD**

000000000000000

 **VERMIN CAMP**

Describing Captain Hookarm as 'utterly furious' wouldn't have done it justice. Not by a long shot.

"What th' fur were ye thinkin'!?" He demanded, barging into Baro's tent. He barely stopped to register the fact that Blue-Eyes had returned and was currently talking with the wolverine emperor. The two creatures turned from their conversation to look towards the angry rat.

"Hmm, good evening, Captain." Blue-Eyes said, completely unfazed that he had been interrupted. "What's this all about?"

"I'll tell ye what all of this is 'bout! That, that… imbecile," he pointed a claw at Baro, "He ordered his beasts t' retreat when we were so close t' th' top of th' crater! Fer all we know, right now, we could've been in that mountain, sipping a nice cup of grog an' celebrating our victory, but _no_." He slammed his fist on one of the thick wooden polls supporting the tent. "Ye had to ruin everythin', didn't ye, _yer Emperorship_?" He practically spat the last two words out. "King Bloodfur is twice the ruler ye'll ever be. No wonder ye and yer kind are stuck in th' Lands of Snow an' Ice. Nobeast can put up with ye!"

Baro Steelclaws' eyes narrowed, his voice had an icy tone to it. "How _dare_ you? Do you think you can come into my tent and try to pin your own failure on me? The audacity!"

If Baro hadn't been many times the size of him, Hookarm would've plunged the end of his hook deep into the emperor's throat and ended the matter once and for all. He was still entertaining that notion, stacking up the odds of his own survival, when Blue-Eyes suddenly grabbed him by the shoulders and half pushed, half led him back out of the tent.

"Ahem, do accept my sincerest apologizes, Emporer Steelclaws. Would you be so kind as to let me and the captain step out and have a word?"

Once he judged they were out of earshot, Blue-Eyes whirled around and glared at Hookarm.

"What in the world were you thinking?" he hissed. Though he spoke in a low tone, his words dripped with disdain. "We can't break the alliance yet. Bloodfur would have your head if he knew you were going to destroy the alliance, and possibly make enemies against Terramort."

"B-but that lying chuck of fur is th' bloody reason my attack failed! Not only that, but now he has it where my own soldiers think that I'm an idiot. They think it's _my_ fault that everythin' was blown t' 'ellgates!"

Blue-Eyes sighed and shook his head sadly. "Indeed. I think that he set you up to fail. I suspected things would evolve into something like this. I've tried my best to prevent it, but you and Baro can't seem to stop butting heads for more than three seconds."

"But what are we going t' do now? How can we make sure that he doesn't send a few of his creatures to slip a blade between our ribs when we're not lookin'?"

"Because I trust that King Bloodfur wouldn't sit calmly and let our dear wolverine friend go unpunished if he killed two of his top captains. I've been with him from the very beginning of his reign. I know how his mind works."

"Hmph. Fat lot of good _that_ would do me if I was dead." Hookarm snorted. Glanced around at the other beasts milling about the camp, he lowered his voice and added, "Maybe it would be wise t' take matters into our own paws…"

Before the one-armed searat had even finished talking, the tall weasel was shaking his head. "I don't think that would be wise at all. And make sure that you drive any other foolish ideas like that out of your head. We'll take care of Baro at a later date. Right now, we need to focus on using him to our advantage." He smirked. "Once Salamandastron falls, I'll actually _help_ you to get rid of that overly-cunning fleabag. But for now, this is what we must do…"

000000000000000

 **SALAMANDASTRON**

"We sure taught them a lesson! Wot wot."

"I say, those vermin are probably still running for their bally lives, don'tch ya know?"

"They'll think twice about trying to taking our jolly mountain again!"

Lord Rockfur and his paw-picked force of fighters had withdrawn back into the mountain once it was evident that the vermin had had enough, and were running for their lives. The younger hares were chattering up a storm. They were proud of their victory.

Lord Rockfur smiled sadly to himself. How many more of these loyal and brave hares would die before this was over? Would these wars never end?

"How well do you think we did?" Urthblaze asked. Rockfur turned to look at the younger badger in the eyes.

"You all did a marvelous job," Rockfur replied, giving Urthblaze a soft punch on the shoulder. He gazed at the other hares, a pleased look on his face. "All of you did. You've made me proud."

"Thank you, sah."

"It means a lot, sah, coming from you. Wot wot."

"We never would have done it without you." Urthblaze wiped dried blood and dirt off his arm with a rag. They were all filthy from the fighting, so some of the officers had sent for freshly soaked rags for them to clean themselves with.

Rockfur grunted as the wound on his arm began to throb painfully, and he clutched it with his other paw, trying to stop any blood from oozing out. The injury was deep, caused by a skillful axe blow, but the Badger Lord had quickly wrapped it before any of his Long Patrollers had a chance to notice it. His arm would most likely be out of action for a few weeks, but he doubted it would be anything serious. Still, he would report it to the healers once he was sure that his hares' injuries were taken care of.

"Hmm, maybe I'll let you all do the fighting next time. I'm getting too old for this sort of thing. I should get around to retiring one of these days." Seeing their horrified looks, he rolled his eyes and chuckled. "Relax. I'm joking. I'm old, but not _that_ old."

"Correction," Urthblaze grinned, holding up a paw, "You _are_ 'that old', but I'm afraid that we wouldn't let you retire until you were stone deaf, and had mold growing out of your ears."

"Eh?" Rockfur cocked his ear, trying to keep a straight face. "What was that? I can't hear you?"

Their merrymaking was interrupted as they all heard the sound of footpaws thumping urgently from the tunnel ahead. A few moments later, the shape of Colonel Brewster came flying around the corner.

"Sah!" he gasped out upon seeing the Badger Lord. His tired legs nearly gave out underneath him. He would have fallen if Lord Rockfur hadn't hurried forward and held him up gently.

"What is it, Colonel?" Rockfur asked, "What's the matter?"

"Charlie is missing! Nobeast has bloody-well seen so much as a glimpse of him since this morning! I'm afraid that something terrible has happened to him. One of the other cadets, Lagworth, has also vanished, sah! I-I don't know what to do…"

His voice trailed off as they heard another set of running paws, though this time they came from the other end of the corridor.

"Lord Rockfur, sah!" the female cadet gasped out, "Private Eric said to fetch you! A party of vermin bearing a white flag of truce are coming. They said that they want to talk to the lord of the mountain!"

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"Are you sure this is going t' work?" Hookarm asked, shooting a glance at Baro and Blue-Eyes. "What if that badger decides to put the safety of his mountain first, and let us kill th' 'ostages?"

"Oh he'll listen." Baro replied. "He and his hares share a strong bond of loyalty. That's one of the reasons they are such an effective fighting force. They'd be willing to die for each other. Alas, as in many cases, their strength is also their weakness."

Hookarm glanced up at the looming shape of the mountain's gates. Even though he had gotten over his initial anger toward Baro, nothing was forgotten. He rubbed the sharpened end of his hook with a claw. "Hmm, let's 'ope so."

The three leaders were accompanied by a score of searats and ermine. The soldiers cast anxious glances at the carcasses of their dead companions littering the mountainside, impaled by arrows or other projectiles. They hoped that things would go better for them then it had gone for their fallen comrades.

They all started with surprise as Salamandastron's gates swung open with a mighty screak. One of the vermin, a fox, at the sudden sound had dropped his spear. A long, intense glance from Baro's eyes made him hastily retrieve it and stand to attention.

Lord Rockfur and a little more than a score of hares filed out of the mountain. It was easy to see that the Patrollers were prepared for anything, and that they were keeping their weapons at ready. If any ambushes or trickery was planned, the vermin directly in front of them, white flag or no, were going to be the first to die.

The Badger Lord of Salamandastron walked a few paces ahead of his guards. He was still dressed in his armor that he had worn in the skirmish, though, the blood and filth stained on it made him look even more formidable. His left arm was bandaged, but aside from that, he appeared to have no other obvious signs of weakness.

Ever the straight-forward one, Rockfur tilted his head and rumbled out in his deep voice, "So, I'm assuming that you've finally realized how un-wise your attack on my mountain is, and you wish to surrender, correct?"

Baro Steelclaws chuckled, walking forward so that the two leaders were only a few feet apart. "Oh, I don't think so. And even if we _did_ wish to stop the siege, do you think I'd come and ask your permission to?"

"Listen, I have more important things to do with my time than sit here and bandy words with the likes of you. Could you get to the point?"

The wolverine paused, as if considering the request, then nodded. "I think I could do that. Though, I _had_ been hoping to do a bit more boasting and the like, but I guess I shall, as you so nicely put it, 'get to the point'."

He gave his vermin a signal, and two ermine came forward, bearing a large sack.

"Show him." The Emperor commanded, and the two soldiers obediently ripped open the top and spilled the content out, revealing a very confused and disheveled Lagworth.

"What's going on?" The big cadet asked groggily. He squinted his eyes as he tried to get used to the bright sunlight. "What's happening?" Seeing the familiar face of Lord Rockfur, he began to slowly stumble toward him. He stopped as he felt a pair of blades touch his throat and his shoulder blades. "What's going on?" he repeated, desperately looking at Rockfur, "Sah, what are they going to do to me?"

"That, my dear lad," Blue-Eyes interrupted, making his way to stand beside the hare, "is entirely up to your Badger Lord."

Rockfur's face lit up with anger. "You– you, utter _vermin_ ," he growled, taking a threatening step forward, "If you harm so much as a patch of fur –" he stopped as Blue-Eyes drew his long rapier in one smooth motion and set his blade on the back of Lagworth's neck.

"Kindly step back, badger. If I'm forced to, I'll kill him right where he stands."

The edges of the Badger Lord's eyes went from light pink back to white as Private Eric came forward and gently pulled his master back a few paces. "Easy, sah," the hare whispered, "We jolly-well wouldn't want you to do something rash, now would we? Wot wot. Let's listen to what they have to say."

Once Baro was satisfied at the distance between Lagworth and Rockfur, he continued to announce his terms. "So this is the deal, Lord Rockfur, I have a hostage, two in fact, that I believe you'll want back. After all, my resources tell me that one of the two cadets that I have is none other than the son of your colonel."

Rockfur's paw gripped his still-sheathed sword's handle. He'd have to try to stay calm for the hostages' sake. If he lost his temper here, they'd be facing certain death. "Get to the point."

"My deal is this: I purpose a duel, a duel that will decide the fate of the two young ones. Both of the champions will meet on equal ground in between our forces and, if your victor wins, we'll release the hostages. The fight will be to the death, of course."

"And what happens if your champion wins?" Rockfur asked.

"Absolutely nothing," the wolverine replied, "The only thing we'll gain is that one of your best champions will be slain."

"You're putting a lot of faith on your champion," Lord Rockfur commented. "May I ask who would be representing your side?"

Baro smiled. "Well, me of course. I haven't been in a good duel in seasons. I think I would enjoy it, actually. It would take place this evening."

The Badger Lord was silent for a few moments. He slowly nodded his head. "Alright, I agree to your terms. Now get your smirking, gloating faces out of here before I order my archers to send a few volleys after you to help increase your speed."

"Thank you, Lord Rockfur." Baro bowed his head smoothly, the action reminded Rockfur of a snake. "I shall greatly –"

"I said get out of here!" Rockfur barked out, unable to keep his anger in check for much longer. He would've given anything to be able to drive his blade through the wolverine's heart. There was a tensed silence as creatures on both sides bunched up and readied their weapons, waiting to see how either side would react first. Baro stared at Rockfur for a few long moments with his piercing glare, then, finally, he turned and silently plodded back away from the mountain, his vermin close behind.

As his captors began to lead him away, Lagworth struggled weakly. But then, he submitted himself to the soldiers and followed them meekly when he realized resistance was futile.

His and Charlie's fate would be decided by the outcome of the duel. One way or another, it would be decided.


	53. Chapter 52

**Author Note:**

 **The Grey Coincidence: Ah, yes. I couldn't resist. I know there was a lot a speculation among Redwall fans on which species would win in a fight; a badger or a wolverine. I've always wanted to write an action scene between the two, so here we are! Lagworth is, indeed, not the most intelligent cookie in the world. I'm glad that you have such strong feeling about him (I wanted to make him a jerk, and it appears that I've succeeded. XD)**

 **Waycaster: Agreed. Baro was one of my villains that I didn't focus on as much. I hope to write him a back story or one-shot of some sort for him one day. The first to go down, eh? We shall see… *Cackles madly* Yes! Parley scenes are awesome!**

 **Keva Strongbow: Not one, not two, but** _ **three**_ **reviews in a row! Thank you!**

 **I'm glad you liked the foreshadowing with Tilda, and about the reminders with Tragg's eye. I agree, being held a captive and a hostage isn't exactly a picnic…**

000000000000000

 **SALAMANDASTRON**

Silence reigned over the Mess Hall as lunch was served. Normally, this would've been a time when all of the hares would be eating boisterously and chattering up a storm. However, ever since Lord Rockfur had gotten back and told them about the duel, they had been unusually solemn.

Private Eric filled up his platter with food and looked around for an empty seat. Seeing Urthblaze sitting at a table slightly away from the others, he walked over and plopped down in the bench opposite of him. Noticing the look on the young badger's face, and how he was staring moodily down at his bowl of soup, the hare tried to cheer him up.

"Mind if I take a seat? I say, wot wot, you look like somebeast who is being forced to eat his a rotting fish," Eric joked, peering into his own bowl, "Does the soup really taste that bloody bad?"

"Mm?" Urthblaze grunted and looked up, taking a second to recognize the hare. "Oh, it's you. Sure. You can sit here if you'd like."

"Why thank you." Private Eric raised an eyebrow and slowly took a bite out of a scone, his eyes not leaving Urthblaze. After a brief silence, he finally asked, "Alright. What's wrong?"

Urthblaze looked up from his food and met the hare's gaze, his eyes were red and Eric realized that the young badger must have been crying recently.

"I… It's just…" The badger hesitated, then, taking a deep breath, continued, "I already lost my grandfather and the rest of my kin. I…I don't think I could keep living if I lost Rockfur too." A tear dripped onto his plate, and Urthblaze quickly brushed a paw across his eyes. "He's almost been like a father to me."

Seeing that the young creature was trying his best to keep himself from appearing overly emotional, the hare leaned over and patted Urthblaze's paw comfortingly.

"Hey," he said in an encouraging tone, "Don't worry. His Lordship has done this kind of thing afore, don'tcha know? And you've seen how he can fight.

Urthblaze shook his head. "Oh, please! Don't act like you all haven't been thinking the same thing. As good as Rockfur is, Baro is in his prime, not only that, but I overheard some of the healers talking, and they said that Rockfur's injured paw will be a huge disadvantage."

"Wait, hold on a tic there." Eric's ears pricked up. "What's this about his jolly ol' paw? I haven't heard anything about that?"

"Well that's no surprise. I asked Rockfur about it and he laughed and said not to worry about it. I think he's trying to keep it a secret so that none of us will worry."

Eric immediately stopped eating and made as if to stand up. "We need to tell the colonel about this! Wot wot. We must cancel this duel if his lordship has an injury."

Urthblaze sighed and waved a paw dismissively. "I told Colonel Brewster. He said that he has already tried making Rockfur change his mind. It didn't work."

Eric looked lost. Finally he sat back down and leaned forward.

"I…didn't know. Who else knows about this? Wot wot."

"Well, besides the colonel and healers, just me and you, I suppose."

"Maybe we… Hmm… If we could convince – hmm." The hare shook his head slowly. "I'll try to think of something. If I can't … I suppose we'll just have to trust Lord Rockfur's fighting abilities, and pray that he can beat that wolverine once and for all."

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After he had finished poking around at his lunch, Urthblaze had got up and wandered the mountain's halls.

 _You can't do anything about it,_ a voice echoed in his head. _So instead of trying to figure out how to stop him, you should be spending this time with Rockfur, in case…in case…_ He couldn't bear finish the thought.

 _I've dealt with this kind of heart-shattering grief before._ He angrily shook his head as he berated himself. _You're a fool, Urthblaze. You knew this would happen! Everybeast that you ever come close to always dies. You're a bad omen! Rockfur is going to fight, and there is nothing you can do can stop him. Even if you did, that would be condemning the hostages' lives. Do you really want that?_

He stopped his pacing and watched two young leveret babes as they ran past him. The pair whooped as they planned their game of tag. How long he stood there, staring at them, he didn't know. Even when they ran off somewhere else, he gazed forward unfocussed.

And then it hit him. He felt like such an idiot for not thinking of it sooner. He knew how to keep Rockfur from fighting the duel!

His heavy footfalls echoed throughout the hall as he ran out. He needed to find Eric!

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"No." Rockfur's deep voice rumbled, "It's absolutely out of the question, Urthblaze,"

Once Rockfur had gotten back, he had immediately gone to the Forge Room. Partly to select his armor and weapons for the upcoming fight, and partly to avoid the many hares who had come and tried to persuade him to find an alternative way to win the hostages' freedom.

He had been in the middle of pulling a helm off the rack to try it on when Urthblaze knocked. Rockfur wouldn't've let him in if he had known what the lad was going to ask him.

"But why not?" Urthblaze asked, seeming unfazed by the Badger Lord's utter refusal. "Just let me try? Please! I can do this. I want to face him myself."

The old creature shook his head. "This isn't your responsibility, Urthblaze. It's my sacrifice to make. They're my hares. I'm sworn to safeguard them at all costs. What kind of a leader would I be if I couldn't defend my own beasts? Now," he went on, trying to change the subject, "why don't you help me pick out my weapons, eh? I'd like to go out there and know that my equipment is in top shape."

As Urthblaze opened his mouth to retort, Rockfur held up a paw.

"And I don't want to hear any more of this nonsense about how overmatched I am. Really, you and Colonel Brewster are absolutely the worst at pep talks."

Urthblaze closed his mouth with a quiet _clomp_. After a brief moment he looked up and sighed. "Alright, I see why you must do this. That doesn't mean I'll have to like your decision though."

"Of course not!" Rockfur grinned, sliding on a pair of gauntlets. "Why, if you started agreeing with me in everything, I'd be concerned that you had bumped your head. Hmm…" He gazed at his weapon rack. "Which do you think I should choose?" he asked, reaching for a mace and feeling its balance.

"Uh… Let's see." Urthblaze had a thoughtful expression on his face. "That depends on how you intend to fight him, I guess."

"Ah, you are most correct, my lad. Hmm… I think I'll go with a shield." He said, picking one up and checking its weight. "Wolverines are big creatures. I won't want to go claw to claw with him. And chances are he'll have a heavy weapon of some sort as well." Rockfur picked up a thick one-sided sword. The curved tip shone in the light. "This should do, I think."

He noted the gloomy look on Urthblaze's face, and he clapped him on the shoulder with a massive paw.

"Now, now… Cheer up! I've lived a long and content life. If this is to be my end then I couldn't have asked for a better one. Which, contrary to popular belief, I just might surprise you all and actually win – If only to prove you all wrong." He flashed him a grin.

Rockfur could see the deep concern in the young badger's eyes, as Urthblaze spoke, "Promise me that you'll be careful."

The Badger Lord gave Urthblaze's shoulder a firm squeeze. "I promise."

"I should probably go." Urthblaze blinked back threatening tears. "I probably won't see you until the after the duel, so I guess this is goodbye." He wrapped the Badger Lord in a big bear-like hug. "I wish you luck. May Fate protect you and guide your paws."

"Thank you," Rockfur said as he returned the younger badger's embrace. "It means a lot."

Right after the young badger left, Rockfur closed the door and walked over to his window. He gazed out toward the vermin camped on his shore. _What if I_ do _lose? What would happen to the hostages? What would happen to the mountain without me here to protect it?_ He mentally shook himself. "Ahem," he mumbled aloud, "All these worrywarts have got _me_ doing it now."

000000000000000

 **VERMIN CAMP**

"Well that went very well, surprisingly," Blue-Eyes remarked aloud, sipping from his cup of wine.

They had just gotten back from the parley, and Baro had left to his own tent. The wolverine had said that he needed to prepare himself for the duel. Blue-Eyes and Hookarm had nothing else to do, so the weasel had ordered some wine and food to be brought out to them while they waited in the cool of Blue-Eyes' tent.

Hookarm's fangs ripped out a bite from his cooked seagull. Spitting out a piece of a bone, he wiped his mouth with one paw then leaned back on his chair. "Ye know Baro must 'ave a lot of faith in his fightin' skills. If I was 'im, I would've made sure that I 'ad a champion to fight fer me before challenging the ruler Salamandastron t' a duel t' th' death."

"Well, I helped him come up with some of the idea," the weasel replied, politely wiping his mouth with a napkin. "But that was after Emperor Baro had revealed some startling information to me."

Hookarm stifled a burp and raised his eyebrow. "Oh? Do go on."

"A crow messenger came this morning. The Rogue Crew and all of the other otter clans have been marshalling a large force and are marching in our direction. They'll most likely be here tomorrow evening at the latest."

"What?!" The rat captain eyes widened. Then he paused as he digested the new information. "Interesting… So _that's_ why Baro wants to 'ave this duel. Though, what are we going t' do with th' newcomers? Ambush 'em afore they get 'ere?"

"We might do that. Though, if we did, that would mean that we'd have to spilt our forces in two for a long period of time, and Baro doesn't wish do that. And I can see why. Splitting the army would only make the defenders wonder where they've gone, and we can't have them finding out that they have help arriving. They would be a lot less cooperative."

"Ah. I see."

There was a brief silence, finally broken when Hookarm stood up and stretched his sore arms. "Aaaah," he sighed, "That feels good. Anyway, I'd better inspect th' troops an' make sure that none of 'em 'ave cracked open a cask of grog or anythin' like that."

Blue-Eyes dipped his head in a polite bow. After the rat captain had gone, the weasel poured himself another cup of wine. He smirked to himself as he remembered one of King Bloodfur's favorite sayings: _There's no sense doing something important without a nice glass of something strong first._

000000000000000

 _This should prove to be a promising evening,_ Emperor Baro Steelclaws thought as he slid his armor on. He had everything prepared before he had even left to parley with Lord Rockfur, so all he had to do was to go into his tent and put them on. He had ordered his guards to bring him his massive mirror. Then he ordered them to leave him in peace. Pulling on his gauntlets, he turned and inspected himself, looking at his reflection.

He looked like a true vermin conqueror, from his savage fangs, to his massive claws. His armor was jet black, just like his thick fur. Yes, he looked like a true wolverine emperor.

"I proved you wrong, Father," he mumbled aloud in a low, smooth tone, a smug grin on his face. "I'm twice the ruler you ever were. I alone conquered the wolf tribes of the North. I alone carved out a mighty kingdom, spreading our borders to even the warm lands of the south. I alone did this, even when you couldn't. I wish you were alive just so that you could see me now, and that I could spit in your face."

He looked again at the mirror. His jaw line tightened as a memory came unwanted to him.

 _He had barely been eight seasons old when it had happened. He and his cousin – a big, hulking creature called Thrangor – had been practicing their fighting skills with a pair of thick wooden swords, when Thrangor had easily smashed through Baro's defense and landed a stinging blow on the smaller beast's out-stretched arm._

" _My arm! You did that on purpose, you mean oaf! Father, look what he did!" The small wolverine clutched his bruised limb as he stumbled toward his father – the infamous Emperor Ragvor._

" _Quit your whining," Ragvor growled, pushing his son away. He had been on his way to a meeting with his generals and he had been pre-thinking what to say to them. Now his son had broken his train of thought, leaving him in a very foul mood. "Didn't you hear me? I said to shut up!" he yelled, swatting his son on the head with a heavy paw. "A true emperor never cries. Honestly, I can't believe that Fate gave you to me a son! You'll never be fit for anything unless you toughen up!"_

" _B-b-but it hurts!" Baro whimpered, pointing an accusing claw at the beast responsible for his pain. "Thrangor did it! He should be punished, Da! He –"_

 _Ragvor's paw swung out and smacked Baro on the cheek. The child recoiled with pain and terror, backing away a few steps. Ragvor then ordered his son to go to his room and to stay there until he was prepared to act like a true son of an emperor._

"You never suspected a thing," Baro scoffed, shaking his head slowly as the memory faded. "You never thought that I, a weak whelp who you thought wasn't worthy to be called your son, could kill you. Well _I_ did. I'll always remember the stupid look on your face when you fell over dead, after drinking that poisoned wine I had the servants bring you."

He broke off as the entrance to his tent moved and a figure came in. "It's almost time for the duel to start," the vermin soldier announced, "You said to remind you when it was time."

Baro grunted and nodded his head approvingly. "Good. Tell Gutslay to pick out some escorts. I'll be out soon."

The vermin bowed then left.

Walking over to a wooden chest, Baro lifted the lid and pulled out his weapon: a massive mace and chain. He smiled as he rubbed its handle fondly. "Ah, my dear friend, you and I have a badger to kill."

000000000000000

Colonel Brewster scowled up at the sun. The weather was going to remain hot, he could tell. The added warmth didn't help his already-dry mouth.

The hare colonel, along with three score of the best Long Patrollers that Brewster could find, were standing at a grim attention on the desert plain. Facing them was an equally large escort of vermin. A ring had been briefly made in the flat sand for the fight to take place in.

The hare glanced over to where Baro Steelclaws sat patiently. He had scorned a helmet due to the heat, and had his guards throw up a makeshift tent to protect him from the evening sun.

 _What the Gates is taking Lord Rockfur so long?_ Brewster wondered. He was feeling uncomfortable with all this. His son's very life was hanging in the balance. If things went wrong…

"I should be the one who fights Baro. Wot wot." Brewster shook his head slowly as he remarked to Major Phillip, "Charlie is _my_ bally son after all! I wouldn't hesitate to take any means to win if it was up to me to kill that cocky wolverine! Besides," he lowered his voice to a whisper, "Lord Rockfur is getting on in his bally seasons. He shouldn't jolly-well have to do this. He deserves to retire in peace. Wot wot."

"Um, hate to break it to ya, Colonel," Major Phillip said, scratching his chin with one paw, "You're not exactly a young leveret either. I'm afraid that our hope shall rest on Lord Rockfur's experience an' hope that he knows what he's bloomin' doing. Wot wot."

"I say, chaps! Here comes Lord Rockfur!" a voice rang out from behind them, and the two hares turned and looked back toward the mountain.

The Badger Lord looked majestic. He was completely clad in his fine badger-crafted armor. His helm was clanked shut, making him appear to the vermin and woodlanders alike as a massive warrior made entirely of steel. Any doubt that was left in their mind of Rockfur's decision were instantly dispelled. He would be the one to represent the mountain. He would be the one that they would place all of their hope in, as they had done for so many times in the past.

He was accompanied by Private Eric. The hare wore his finest dress uniform, and carried a flag bearing the mountain's colors.

As they passed through the ordered ranks of Long Patrollers, Private Eric beckoned Colonel Brewster over, then handed him a scroll of paper.

"Here, sah," he explained, "His Lordship wants you to read out the blooming terms."

Nodding to Eric, the old hare ran up to the figure of Lord Rockfur and tapped him on the arm.

"M'lord, I…" Brewster paused as he felt a wave of emotion sweep through him. "I wish you luck, old friend. Wot wot."

The badger seemed to smile from behind his helmet as he clasped Brewster's shoulder in a comforting gesture. "Thank you. I'll do my best." His voice was gruffer then normal – though Brewster assumed that was due to emotional strain.

Then, the Badger Lord turned and made his way to the edge of the ring. Baro Steelclaws rose from his seat and casually walked over to his own starting position, his eyes assessing his opponent.

"Don't worry, badger," Baro called out, his massive fangs pulled into a grin. "I'll take it easy on you."

Rockfur, however, remained stoic and refused to be baited.

Colonel Brewster walked out into the middle of the flat ring, holding a red cloth in his one paw, and the scroll in the other. He squared his shoulders as he read the terms of the fight aloud.

"Ahem. So, it goes without saying that there shall be no foul play on either side. This bally-well includes, having beasts interfere, or uses unconventional weapons – such as poisoned or long-ranged. The winner shall decide the fate of the hostages. And while we're on that subject…" The hare shot a questioning glance at Baro. "Where _are_ the hostages? I don't see them."

"They are being held in my camp." The wolverine gently swung the end of his mace and chain idly. "Don't worry, if Lord Rockfur wins, I've given my commanders orders that they shall be released immediately. Besides, if it comforts at all, I would've killed them a long time ago if I had wished them dead."

"Oh yes, _very_ comforting," Brewster mumbled under his breath. Then, scanning the paper to see where he had left off, he continued. "The fight shall commence on my bloomin' signal." He gestured to the red cloth in his left paw. "Are there any questions?"

He paused a few seconds to see if there were any objections or comments about the terms. He heard none. "Then may the best beast win! Wot wot! On my count! Ten… Nine… Eight…"

Hefting their weapons, the two gigantic creatures stared steadily at each other as they waited. The watching creatures fell silent as the dry wind stilled. It was as if Nature itself held its breath. The only thing that could be heard was Brewster counting down.

"…Four… Three… Two… One!"

And then, there was a flash of red as Brewster swung the cloth.

The duel had begun.


	54. Chapter 53

**Author Note:**

 **First of all; MERRY CHRISTMAS, EVERYONE! I hope you all have a good Christmas! Second of all; my story has passed its one year anniversary! I published the first chapter on December 21. Boy, I never knew what I would be getting myself into... XD**

 **Now, to the review responses…**

 **Abrahem 52: Yes, I like writing any scene with Blue-Eyes (He's one of my favorite creations, actually). And yes, Keva's my editor. I don't know where I'd be without her to be honest.**

 **Keva Strongbow: Yes, it shall be interesting to see who wins… I'll let Rockfur know that you wished him luck. ;-) I'm glad that you liked the scenes with the hares and the badgers!**

 **Waycaster: [A buildup chapter. Another one to be exact.] Yep, that it is. However, the wait is over! We shall see how the duel ends once and for all.**

 **Thanks! Though hold on a second, what's this nonsense about you not writing emotion well? Tsk tsk. Don't be absurd!**

 **Hopefully, one day we shall learn a bit more about Baro's back story. Until then, I guess you (And everyone else, including me) shall sadly have to wait. :'(**

 _ **Merry Christmas!**_

000000000000000

 **SALAMANDASTRON'S SOUTH SHORE**

Cheering broke out as the two mighty beasts charged forward. Steel met steel in a grinding rhythm. As shouts of encouragement rang out from both sides, the two beasts began their dance of death, each seeking to end the other's life.

"I say, sah, you're doing absolutely marvelous!"

"Don't give that bally scoundrel an inch, M'lord!"

"Give 'im blood an' vinegar! Wot wot!"

"Kill th' badger! Make th' sand run red with 'is blood!" a rat shrieked out, "Cut his eyes out, Yer Majesty!"

Baro had left his mighty mace-and-chain on the edge of the ring in Blue-Eyes' possession. He wanted to take stock of his opponent's fighting style before he resorted to using it.

"You'd better watch out, Lord Rockfur." Baro called out as he blocked one of the badger's powerful thrusts. "We wouldn't want me to have to kill you too easily, now would we?"

"You scum!" The badger gritted between clenched teeth. "You'll never kill another beast again when I'm through with you!"

The duel continued on with a clashing of blades. For a while, it appeared that Lord Rockfur held the upper paw as he beat the wolverine back, using sheer strength alone. And then suddenly, it all changed. Baro seemed to gain a second wind and, letting out a savage cry, he attacked with a brutality that shocked the badger.

It was all Rockfur could do to block the wolverine's blows, let alone strike any himself. Slowly, yet surely, the massive badger was driven back step by step, his footpaws sliding across the sandy surface.

Among the crowd, Brewster was nervously chewing the ends of his whiskers. "Gah! That wolverine is far better than we feared. Rockfur already seems to be losing some of his strength. His coordination seems off. Baro's blows are coming too hard and fast."

Eric's face mirrored the colonel's own worried expression. "You're right. That must be why his moves are so uncoordinated. If he can't turn this fight back in his favor soon, it's not going to end well."

Brewster winced as he saw Baro's sword nick the badger's left gauntlet. The armor blocked most of the blow, but the force of it made Rockfur's paw throb painfully.

Brewster mumbled under his breath. "Come on, Rockfur… Fight! You can do this!"

00000000000000

 **INSIDE THE MOUNTAIN**

Harry Mackelson was one of the lowly kitchen helpers. He had been assigned to bring food to the Long Patrollers who were guarding the crater. On his way, he had the ill fortune of knocking over one of the half-empty water barrels, spilling its contents all over the rocky floor.

A nearby officer saw what happened and wasted no time at calling to him.

"I say, wot wot! What the blazes do you think you're bally-well doing!? Go fetch another barrel and clean up this blinking mess." Seeing Harry's hesitation, he had swelled out his chest and added briskly, "Well? Why are you standing there with your mouth hanging open like a fish? Chop-chop! And don't let me catch you doing something foolish like that again. Next time, watch where you're going! Hear me, Private?"

"Yes, sah! Completely understood, sah! I'll fetch another barrel straight away, sah!"

Harry turned around and swiftly ran back down the tunnel.

He was on his way to the room where the water barrels were kept, when he heard the sounds of a beast grunting loudly in a muffled voice.

"Mmmh! Mgh mmm mgh!"

Harry stopped. The sounds were coming from inside Lord Rockfur's forge room.

"I say… That's bloomin' peculiar…" Harry took a few slow steps toward the door, drawing a knife from his belt. Gulping, he slowly opened the massive wooden door. The hare gasped and dropped his weapon with a clang when he saw who was inside.

"L-L-Lord Rockfur," he managed to gasp out, his voice shaking with shock. "What are y-you doing here?"

The Badger Lord was outstretched on the floor, his paws tied behind his back, and his mouth gagged with a cloth. He made a few grunting noises, and Harry quickly picked up his knife from where he had dropped it, and ran over to his master.

"Who did this to you, M'lord?" he asked, slicing through the ropes with his knife. "Are you okay? What happened? Wot wot!"

Once his paws were free, Rockfur ripped off his gag and glanced around groggily. His eyes were unfocused, and they looked like as if he had just awoken from a deep sleep. The massive badger slowly got onto his footpaws and struggled to hold his balance. "I… I feel so weak. My head, it…it hurts."

"What happened, Sah?"

Rockfur held a paw to his head as he tried to remember. "I… I must've been drugged with some sort of sleeping potion. Yes, that must've been it. Somebeast must've drugged my water or something. But who would've done such a thing?"

"When did it happen, sah?"

Rockfur held his head with his paws. "The last thing I remember was Urthblaze talking to me and asking to take my place at the duel. Maybe– …oh no!"

Harry nearly jumped out of his skin as Rockfur let out an anguished moan, and began to stumble his way toward the door. The hare quickly ran over to assist him. Rockfur turned and gripped him tightly by the shoulders, his eyes seeming to bore right through the hare.

"Has the duel started?" he asked urgently.

"I…er, yes it has, M'lord," Harry babbled out, "But you probably shouldn't be moving … I'll get a doctor– Owch!"

He grimaced as the Badger Lord's grip on his shoulder tightened. "Who is fighting Baro?"

"I-I-I don't know! Somebeast in your battle armor… We all thought it was you!"

Rockfur released Harry then dropped to his knees. "No," he mumbled to himself, tearing at the fur on his head with his mighty paws. "No, no, _noooo_!"

Harry had started to back slowly towards the door when he stopped dead in his tracks as a thought hit him. "Wait a minute…" he said, realization dawning on him. "That means…" He gasped. "Urthblaze!"

00000000000000

 **SALAMANDASTRON'S SOUTH SHORE**

The heat was becoming unbearable for Urthblaze as he blocked blow after blow. His metal helmet absorbed the sun's rays like a magnet, causing large drops of sweat to trickle down his neck.

Urthblaze knew if he couldn't end this soon, Baro would slowly carve him to bits.

The wolverine's experienced and calculating moves were proving too much for the young badger. Baro had been clever by not showing his full skill until the duel had dragged out long enough for the sun's heat to take its toll. Slowly, yet surely, the wounds that Baro continued to give Urthblaze increased, causing him to become even more tired and sloppy.

Thinking quickly, Urthblaze suddenly changed tactics and hurled himself forward.

Baro grunted with surprise at his opponent's unexpected move. Their blades were locked together, rendering them useless since they were too close and there wasn't any room to get a proper swing.

The wolverine swung out with his free paw and smashed his armored fist into the side of Urthblaze's helm. The badger staggered as he tried to stop his head from ringing.

Casting his weapon aside, Urthblaze leapt forward and bulled into Baro, once again catching the wolverine by surprise.

Sand flew in all directions as the two of them rolled on the ground, their teeth bared as they snarled.

Urthblaze finally managed to untangle himself from the other beast's grasp by kicking him with both of his footpaws. It temporarily winded Baro, and the two creatures slowly backed off, each assessing the other.

"Do… Do you need a respite, old one?" Baro gasped out, he was clearly beginning to lose energy as well. His ribs ached where Urthblaze had kicked him. Out of the corner of his eye, he searched the ground for his sword. "You need… a rest?"

It was tempting thought, but Urthblaze knew that it wouldn't happen. If they dragged this out too long, somebeast was going to eventually connect the dots and figure out that Urthblaze wasn't Lord Rockfur.

Wiping blood from a bite wound on his neck, Urthblaze growled. "We're going to end this here! No rests, no breaks. What's the matter? Are you afraid you might lose to such an _old_ warrior like me?"

That earned a reaction from Baro. The wolverine let out a furious bellow and charged forward, claws outstretched and teeth bared, throwing his dented helmet aside.

They crashed together in a whirl of fur and armor.

000000000000000

 **SALAMANDASTRON'S NORTH SHORE**

Chief Askarr and the Rogue Crew had marched until they feared their footpaws would drop off. They had finally made it to the base of the mountain. They spotted a few vermin scouts, but they were too far away for the otters to do anything.

"So much for our arrival being a bally secret, wot wot." Sergeant One-Ear remarked as he hobbled along with his long, wooden crutches. A couple of the clan otters had offered to help him along the way, yet the hare had brushed them off with a scowl. "I'm injured, not dead," he had snapped.

The only creature that he would tolerate to escort him was Private Snowpetal. The young private wouldn't take no for an answer. Yet even then, One-Ear only allowed her to help when the terrain was incredibly rocky or steep. His self-dignity wouldn't have it any other way.

"Well, stealth isn't exactly a strong point o' mine." Askarr gestured toward the mountain with his massive axe. "Jus' lead us t' the vermin, an' we'll show you 'ow t' deal with 'em th' Rogue Crew way."

000000000000000

 **SALAMANDASTRON'S SOUTH SHORE**

The fight had been in a stalemate as the two had wrestled ruthlessly. Pieces of armor littered the sand around them, torn off from the paw-to-paw fighting. Baro's face was covered with bruises, and there was some blood smeared across his forehead. Urthblaze, however, was also not caught unscathed. The young badger's arm was covered with deep bites, and parts of flesh had been ripped off by the wolverine's terrible claws.

Catching sight of his fallen sword half-buried in the sand beside him, Urthblaze suddenly saw his chance. The one he'd been waiting for. Using all of the strength that he had left, he pushed Baro away from him and dove for the blade.

Picking it up, he swung out wildly, catching Baro a blow on the shoulder. The wolverine shrieked out a pained roar. Then, scooping up a pawful of sand, he threw it at the young badger's face.

Urthblaze scrambled back and tried to brush out the sand that had entered through his visor, but his helmet made it impossible for him to reach his eyes. Blinded, he never stood a chance as Baro ran forward and body slammed into him, grabbing possession of the weapon as he did.

"No!" Private Brewster screamed and made as if to leap into the fray. A few of the other Long Patrollers only just managed to hold him back. Still struggling, the hare continued to yell out protests.

Baro smiled triumphantly as he stood over the fallen badger who gaped around blindly, looking for his enemy.

The wolverine – gripping the sword with both paws – drove its point through a weak spot in Urthblaze's shoulder armor.

The wound seemed to burn like fire as the young warrior realized that the wound was going to be fatal. He desperately tried to struggle to his footpaws, but Baro kicked him back down.

Urthblaze grunted as pain seared through his body. His eyes stung as he tried to open them. All he could make out was the crowd of hares calling out to him from a distance. He knew they were yelling encouragement to him. Even though their voices seemed far away and indistinct, he knew that they wanted him to get back up, to finish the fight.

 _I'm sorry Rockfur…_ His thoughts flashed through his mind. " _I thought I could do this. I thought I could help repay you for all you've done for me by protecting your mountain… I wish I could have defeated him for you. I only wanted to help…_ He let out a cry of pain as the blade plunged into his chest. Giving one final shudder, the badger closed his eyes and went limp.

Baro breathed heavily and took a few weary steps back. "It is finished."

A choking cry rang out from amongst the deathly silent crowd.

"Urthblaze!"

There were gasps as Lord Rockfur came stumbling forward into view. His left arm was still half-wrapped in a bandage, and his movements were slow and sluggish from the sleeping herbs.

"R-Rockfur?" Brewster's tear-stained face looked at him in shock. "But-but…" Solemnly he turned back to stare at the still body of the badger lying dead on the sand.

"What in Hellgates is going on here?" Baro snarled, glancing from the dead body at his footpaws to the Badger Lord. "I _killed_ you!"

Bending over, he ripped off the helm of the dead warrior.

"The young one?" His face went purple with rage. "Treachery! I challenged _you_ , Rockfur, not this wet-behind-the-ears whelp!"

"You get away from him!" Lord Rockfur staggered forward and pushed the wolverine away. Falling to his knees, he knelt beside the body. Shoulders shaking from his sobbing, he didn't even bother to wipe the tears as they rolled down his face. "My dear lad…Why…why…"

Baro stomped off toward Blue-Eyes. "Give me my weapon," he ordered, snatching up his mace-and-chain. He turned back toward the woodlanders and pointed at them with the sword in his other paw, its blade still red from Urthblaze's blood. "They tricked me! They broke the rules by choosing a different champion. Kill them!"

As the vermin hesitated and shot each other confused glances, Baro let out a mighty roar and swung his mace-and-chain in the air.

"ATTACK!"

Bunching together in a group, they charged toward the Badger Lord and his hares.

Brewster's training instantly kicked in. Running about, he started barking out orders to the Long Patrollers. "Form ranks around Lord Rockfur, chaps! They mean to blooming charge us!"

Woodlanders and vermin alike were suddenly startled as a mighty cry thundered out from behind the hares.

"Rogue Crew, CHAAAAAARGE!"

The vermin attackers' resolve wavered as the dunes to the north came alive with scores of tattooed otters, led by the fearsome-looking Chief Askarr.

Outnumbered and outmatched, the vermin began to scramble as fast as they could back to the safety of their camp. Even Baro in his rage realized that he and his two score creatures didn't stand a chance against the shrieking horde. Calling out for them to regroup with the main force, he reluctantly followed his fleeing soldiers.

000000000000000

Brewster's jaw dropped open as he saw One-Ear limp his way over on his crutches, Snowpetal at his side with her weapon held at-ready.

"Sergeant One-Ear reporting, Sah!" The hare saluted smartly. "Accompanied by Private Snowpetal –along with reinforcements, as ordered."

The colonel shook his head and embraced One-Ear. "Thank Heavens you're jolly-well alive, wot wot!" He threw an anxious glance at the retreating vermin's backs. "We'll have to talk later, I'm afraid. Let's get our chaps back in the mountain afore we have a whole mob of those bloody scoundrels on our tails!"


	55. Chapter 54

**Author Note:**

 **Before I move on to review responses, I'd like to give a shoutout to Grey for helping me with a few things from the Urthblaze/Rockfur twist. *Hands Grey a cookie***

 **Abrahem: From the very beginning, I had been tinkering with the idea of killing Urthblaze instead of Rockfur (I knew that one of them would have to die for… *Glances around* …plot reasons), and needless to say, Rockfur is the one who will have to fight another day. (Unless I kill him to… *Gazes skyward innocently*)**

 **One-Eye the Wildcat: *Grins* Well, I'm glad I caught you by surprise.**

 **Waycaster: Ah. So you suspected it was him all along. *Hands Waycaster a bowl of rice with a cherry on top* Good work! I normally like the idea of having two plot twists at the same time if possible. That way, just in case any of my readers figure out one, hopefully they wouldn't see the other…until it was too late.**

 **The Grey Coincidence: Once again, thank you for the help! As for the Long Patrollers and Brewster: … Yes, he'd probably agree with you. :-P Also, thanks for waiting to review (That way, nothing would be spoiled for the other readers** **)**

 **And without further ado: the next chapter…**

000000000000000

 **TERRAMORT**

It was the night after Slisk's execution when Abe received the message; everything was ready. Tonight was the night.

The hedgehog whistled quietly to himself, trying to steady his nerves, as he helped Grubbypaw push the trolley down the castle hallway. He had tucked a bundle of make-shift weapons underneath the wooden trolley, hiding it under a stack of bowls. Broken mallets, small kitchen knives, and anything else that the kitchen slaves could lay their paws on were in the cart.

Their vermin guard escort called up to the corsairs on the walltop, and a few seconds later, Fort Bloodgard's side gate opened with a loud rumble, permitting the creatures pushing the cart to pass. Pushing the trolley down the dirt path that led to the Slave Pits wasn't easy, but the two slaves managed.

When they arrived at the Slave Pits, the slaves were waiting in a huddled group inside the caves, peering through the barred doors that kept them from freedom. To a casual observer, everything appeared normal, but Abe knew that the peacefulness of the night wasn't going to remain for long.

As the head slaver saw them coming, he barked out an order for the first cave door to be opened then turned back to Abe and Grubbypaw.

"Make sure you hurry up with that." He yawned and scratched his chin with his whip's handle. "Honestly, I don't see why we even bother feeding these slaves in the first place. They're flat-out lazy and slow!"

Rolling the trolley over to its usual position, the two woodlanders began to scoop out food to the waiting slaves.

Broge was the first one in line. Leaning over, he whispered into Abe's ear as casually as he could.

"Did ye bring th' weapons?"

"Aye."

As Abe handed the scarred shrew his meager bowl of scraps, he subtly passed him one of the short knives.

Broge gave a small nod then continued down the line.

They had discussed and practiced as much of the escape plan as they could. The ringleaders had selected a small group of tough, able-bodied beasts who would take out the guards. If anything went wrong, then the chances of any of them surviving would be nearly impossible. Thus, picking out creatures to trust had taken a long time.

Abe would secretly pass out weapons to the selected beasts as he handed them their food.

Broge slowly walked up to the head slaver – where he stood a little ways apart from the other four guards. The shrew held up a questioning paw. "Excuse me, sir?"

"What?" the vermin snapped out. He was tired, and was looking forward to having a nice sleep. He folded his arms impatiently. "What is it now?"

"Well…" Broge cast a hesitant glance around at the nearby creatures. He began to whisper in a low tone – making a gesture for the head slaver to lean in closer.

As the slaver leaned forward to listen to him, Broge's right paw shot up, punching the vermin hard in the snout. As the vermin jerked back and instinctively threw his paws up to his now-bleeding nose, Broge put him in a headlock and held a kitchen blade to his neck.

"Anybeast move an' I'll slit his throat!" The shrew added pressure to the knife. "Hand over th' keys if ye 'ave any wish tae live."

The head slaver gulped as he tried to stop the blood running down from his nose. He fumbled at his belt and held up a ring of keys. "Take them!" he managed to choke out.

Broge kept the weapon close to the vermin's neck, and used his free paw to toss the keys to Slashblade. The one-armed stoat caught them deftly and ran over to cave door, and he began to unlock it. The other guards moved as if to stop him.

"Move 'n' your leader dies!" Broge yelled out, effectively stopping the vermin dead in their tracks.

As fate would have it, the Head Master was related to Bruggor – King Bloodfur's personal captain of the guard, a position of influence. None of the corsairs present wished to risk being blamed if the shrew carried out his threat. Besides, they were armed lightly since they hadn't been expecting any trouble.

Once the barred doors were opened, the mob of slaves stumbled out. Slashblade ran to a few more of cells and a few minutes later, more groups of slaves joined the throng as they were released. In all, the slaves numbered over six score. They overpowered the startled guards and – after relieving them of their weapons – locked them in the cells.

One of the slaves, an otter with one eye and a scarred face, scowled and spat at the cringing vermin.

"I say we kill 'em all!" the otter said loudly, "Make 'em pay fer what they did to us!"

As bitter mumbles of agreement followed the woodlander's words, Broge waved his paws in the air, trying to catch their attention.

"No! That would jus' be stooping down tae their level!"

"Besides," Slashblade added loudly, standing by the scarred shrew, "We 'aven't got th' time fer that. If we want t' get out of here, we'll 'ave to work together to take over one of the ships! We only 'ave a few minutes afore word breaks out that we've escaped."

000000000000000

 **FORT BLOODGARD**

King Bloodfur's fitful sleep was interrupted by the sound of somebeast pounding on his door.

"Sire! Sire!"

The searat king grumbled an oath under his breath as he stumbled out of bed. Grabbing his axe, he walked over to the door.

"What do ye want?"

"It's Captain Bruggor, Yer Majesty. The taverns an' wharfs are under attack!"

Now, fully awake, Bloodfur grabbed a shirt of chainmail and threw in on and then swung open the door. Bruggor and a company of guards were standing out in the hallway, their faces nervous.

"Who's attackin'?" the king snapped out, "How many?"

Bloodfur made his way down the hallway, Bruggor and the guards following close at his heels. The captain of the guard picked up his pace until he was beside the ruler.

"We don't know," Bruggor replied, "Some beasts are sayin' that the slaves are escapin', others say that Slisk's followers must've stirred up the rabble. Th' crews stayin' in the taverns aren't any help either. My rats tell me that most of 'em are takin' advantage of the confusion t' steal 'n' loot what they can."

"I want all of the soldiers to report back into Fort Bloodgard. Keep any of th' independent crews and captain not under my command from enterin' – Just in case this is a rebellion of some sort. We'll stay 'ere until we can figure out what in 'ellgates is going on."

000000000000000

 **ABOARD THE** _ **GUTKEEL**_

Deathclaw the ferret had been one of the ten creatures charged with guarding Slisk's former ship. King Bloodfur had ordered it confiscated, and it was his job to make sure that no beasts would crawl aboard until the king had picked a worthy crew. So far, that had been extremely easy, if not a little boring.

The ferret was in, what used to be, the captain's quarters. He and a few of his mates were gambling with a pair of dice.

"Ha! I win!" Deathclaw grinned, grabbing at the contents on the cabin table. "Hehe. I always knew I was born lucky."

"Hmph," one of the rats grunted, crossing his arms over his chest, "Yer luck jus' might run out sooner than ye expect unless ye sharrup."

Since the head sergeant was out on official business, the ten sentries had taken their watch below deck. They didn't want to stand around in the dark unless they were forced to. After all, they reasoned, it would be likely that anybeast would be eager to cause trouble after what had happened to the late Captain Slisk. The only creatures that the vermin would have to worry about was the still-chained slaves on the bottom deck – and _they_ definitely weren't going anywhere.

However, the vermin's carelessness would prove to be the end of them.

If they had been on the top deck, they would've spotted the large house fires that had suddenly sprang up in the village close to the docks. But, as it was, the sounds of their drinking and gambling had drowned out any noise from outside the cabin.

Deathclaw took a swig of grog and, wiping his mouth, let out a loud belch. "Aaah. Ye all can keep at it, lads. I'm going t' get some fresh air."

Grabbing his bag of newly acquired loot, the ferret walked out of the cabin and onto the deck. He blinked slowly as he saw a large, orange-red, flickering light coming from the shoreline.

"That's strange… What's that?"

He didn't see the long, sleek shapes of otters climbing over the ship's railing behind him.

He suddenly felt strong paws clutch his throat from behind, and he tried to gurgle out a muffled cry. He went limp as the otter twisted the ferret's neck sharply, breaking it easily. The woodlander slowly let the dead body of the corsair drop to the wooden floor then gave a nod to his companions.

The otters grabbed a nearby walking plank and brought it over to the edge of the railing. Staying as quiet as they could, they lowered one end of the ramp down to the wooden dock where Broge and the rest of the slaves waited.

The other ships' crews had gone on shore for the night, so the nobeast spotted them as the slaves filed up the plank.

Broge let out a sigh as his footpaws stood on the ship. The last time he had been on a vessel, he had been chained to an oar. He turned his head as Abe walked up beside him.

"What do we do now?" the hedgehog whispered, casting anxious glances around the deck. "There are bound to more vermin onboard."

"Then let's go pay them a visit."

000000000000000

It seemed that luck was with the slaves' cause… for now, at least. Slashblade had taken a score of newly-freed slaves and attacked the village and taverns, while Broge led the rest to the docks. The one-armed stoat had personally paw-picked his beasts – Creatures who he knew that hated the corsairs for what they did. Hungry for vengeance, they had crashed down upon the unwary vermin, catching them by surprise.

"Burn th' houses!" Slashblade called out, running a pleading rat through with his weapon, "For freedom!" The stoat stretched his shoulder as he looked around for more opponents. "Mmm. It feels good t' be fightin' again."

One of the slaves came running over, a worried look on his face.

"Slashblade! The signals been lit! They captured a ship!"

Before they had departed, Broge had told Slashblade that he would signal him with a torch if they managed to seize a vessel.

"Are ye sure it was them an' not somebeast else?"

The woodlander nodded his head wildly, still panting from his run.

The one-armed vermin slave raised his weapon in the air and barked out orders to the surrounding creatures.

"Fall back! To th' docks! If ye stay here then we're gonna leave ye behind. Pass th' news on!"

000000000000000

Nine limp bodies were thrown over the side of the ship. The woodlanders had caught the corsairs by surprise and killed them down to the last rat. Three mice and a squirrel had been slain from the slave group.

Broge had been the first mate on a small sailing ship before he had taken up wandering the Northlands. He picked a pawful of creatures who knew what they would be doing and set them to work.

"Ready the sails! We'll leave the moment Slashblade an' the others get back from causing our diversion. Ye there, take some strong beasts 'n' bring up the anchor! Abe, Kullum, Finback, you three go down an' tell the chained slaves that they're free beasts now. An' tell 'em that if they want tae remain free then they'll have tae row for all they're worth!"

The scarred shrew went over to the railing as he heard a shout ring out from the dock.

"Ahoy! Beasts coming aboard – we've got company!"

The woodlanders on the ship immediately lowered the ramp once more, and Slashblade's party scrambled up. They were being closely followed by a small group of vermin pursuers.

Broge shouted orders to the otters guarding the plank. They were armed with an assortment of long shafted weapons –such as spears and pikes– that they had found in the ship's hold, and held them ready.

Slashblade was the last of the slaves to run up the plank. "Drop th' ramp!" he barked out, "Quick! Afore all of Terramort realize what's going on!"

The pack of corsairs had paused once they reached the dock. They could see that they were outnumbered, and none of them wanted to attempt an attack on the vessel. They were content to throw weapons up at the woodlanders from the safety of the dock.

Ducking low, Broge and two otters heaved the end of the heavy ramp over the side, where it splashed into the sea water.

Slowly but surely, the vessel pulled away from the wharf. In all of the confusion, nobeast heeded the _Gutkeel_ and her crew as they rowed their way to freedom.

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When dawn finally came, the inhabitants of Terramort were surveying the full effects the fires had caused to the buildings.

An entire section of the market place had been burn to the ground, along with a tavern. Only blackened husks remained of the huts caught by the flames. The air was thick with ashes, causing creatures to cough as they searched among the rubble.

King Bloodfur's eyes were a fiery red. It was hard to tell whether it was from rage or lack of sleep. His nose twitched as he surveyed where buildings had been only a matter of hours ago. He kicked at blackened piece of rubble with his footpaw angrily.

 _How did it come to this?_

His ears perked up as he heard Bruggor walk up behind him. The captain's footfalls were heavy, and his breathing sounded raspy.

"Well," Bruggor said cautiously, trying to gauge his liege's mood. "At least this 'orrible night is finally over."

"Yes, thank ye fer that very enlightenin' fact." Bloodfur spat out sarcastically. He rubbed his bloodshot eyes with one paw and sighed. "Anythin' _else_ fascinatin' t' report?"

"Er..." Bruggor took a small step back. "All of th' mining slaves escaped durin' th' commotion. Whether or not they did before everythin' happened is still unknown. The night watch said that th' slaves had taken over one of th' ships an' fled. We don't know which one though, because a third of th' independent captains left during th' night with their crews." He scoffed. "Apparently nobeast wanted t' help clean up th' mess."

Bloodfur was dangerously silent.

Finally, the rodent heaved out a loud sigh and slowly shook his head. "Season upon season I've been king of Terramort. In all that time, I've done all in my power t' bring glory to th' corsair world. I've experienced setback after setback, but every time I've beaten my way back t' th' top. Nothin' will stop me from expanding my empire. We _will_ recover from this. An' this will never happen t' us again."

Turning around, he walked grimly toward the towering shape of Fort Bloodgard.

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 _Footnote:_

 _This chapter was a lot less…heart breaking to write than my other chapter (I'm sure you can guess why.) This will actually be the last we get to see of Terramort (At least until the sequel.)_

 _Happy reading to you all!_


	56. Chapter 55

**Author Note:**

 **Review responses:**

 **Waycaster: Well I think it's a good quote all the same. :-D Yes. About the explaining things at the last second… Now that you say that, I notice that myself. I'll be sure to edit that when I finally get around to polishing TGW.**

 **Highwing: Goodness! Seven reviews! I'll PM you replies to your reviews. It'll probably be a while until you catch up and read this, but thank you for reviews!**

 **The Grey Coincidence: Irony can be a beautiful thing sometimes. Very rarely is it fortunate, but hey, at least this time it panned out well for the good guys. XD**

 **As for Slisk's crew, don't worry, I hadn't forgotten them. I want to go back and add in their fate in the same chapter that Slisk dies in.**

 **Lol. You're definitely right about Deathclaw. XD**

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 **VERMIN CAMP**

The combined force of otters and hares had retreated into Salamandastron before the vermin army could assemble and launch a counter attack. Baro had been absolutely positive that there would've been no need for his troops to form into ranks before the duel. Besides, the wolverine had reasoned, the woodlanders wouldn't have gone on with the duel if they thought that there would be a chance for the slightest bit of trickery on his side. A full assembly of armored and battle-ready troops would have appeared just a little too suspicious, Baro had thought.

After the emperor had had time to gather his wits, he ordered his snowlander archers to pin down the hares on the crater.

Shedding himself of his dented armor, the wolverine gathered a group of his commanders and disappeared, telling Hookarm and Blue-Eyes that he would be back momentarily.

Hookarm decided that waiting in a stuffy tent wasn't going to work anymore. Instead, he and Blue-Eyes walked through and inspected the camp. Many of the vermin soldiers were sweating heavily in their armor. They had expected to be called to battle, and were confused when the order had never come.

"Any idea where his emperorship ran off to?" Hookarm asked Blue-Eyes as they walked side by side.

"No need to worry, Hookarm," the weasel replied, his voice smooth as ever, "One of my informants told me that Baro's minions have been working on a project to the south of the camp. Maybe he went to add a little fire under his engineers' tails to make them finish their job faster – whatever it may be, that is."

"Ye mean ye don't know?" Hookarm scoffed. "Ye make it sound like ye're supposed t' be all knowin'."

"Hmm… All knowing would be taking it a bit too far, perhaps… – Almost, but not quite." The weasel smiled, pulling out his rapier and swinging it back and forth skillfully as he continued walking. "Baro is beginning to worry me…" The weasel's eyes were dark and piercing as he glanced over sideways at Hookarm. "Just in case things go wrong, I think I'll take a few precautions."

The searat captain clapped his companion on the shoulder with a heavy paw. "Good fer ye, matey! I always knew ye'd come up with a backup plan. What kind of 'precautions' are ye taken exactly?"

"Not so loud." The weasel furrowed his eyebrows close together. "I'll take care of them myself. You keep an eye on Baro and let me know when he gets back. I'm going to drop by our hostages and pay them a visit."

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 _This is bad. This is really,_ really _, bad!_

When Charlie woke up, it didn't take him long to realize that something very wrong must have happened to him. His paws were tied in front of him, and he was in one of the vermin's tents. Hearing the sound of guards talking just outside, he concluded that things did not look good.

He slowly sat up, aware of a pounding pain in his head, and glanced around.

The small tent was completely empty. The sandy floor was hard and uncomfortable, and Charlie's mouth was dry from the heat. His tongue had swollen. With his headache added to that, he felt absolutely miserable.

His long ears pricked up as he heard scuffling from outside the tent, along with the sound of a very familiar voice protesting loudly.

"I say, you rotters, get your bloody paws off of me! I'm not some bally two-season old leveret who can barely walk!"

The tent entrance opened and Lagworth's body was shoved in. The big cadet's paws were also tied in front of him as well.

"Lagworth? What in celery's name is going on? Boy, am I glad to see your familiar face! Where –" The smaller hare suddenly broke off as memories came flooding back to him.

"This is _your_ fault! What on earth were you jolly-well thinking? You traitor! You good for nothing, lying son of a–"

"Oh, shut up." Lagworth kicked a pawful of sand toward him. Though Lagworth was trying to keep an irritated demeanor, Charlie could see confusion and guilt in his eyes. "You wouldn't understand." The big hare continued, sitting on the ground with a huff. "Nobeast ever understands."

He sighed and closed his eyes as Charlie kept up a steady tirade of anger.

"What do you mean _'I wouldn't understand_ '? Your stupid revenge got us both in trouble! How did the bloomin' vermin even nab us in the first place?"

"What does it bally-well matter? We're here, aren't we?"

A long silence followed Lagworth's words.

What seemed like many hours later, the two hares heard sounds of the vermin army outside the tent grabbing their weapons and yelling out orders and commands.

"I wonder what those blinking cads are up to now. Maybe preparing for a battle?" Charlie suddenly gasped as he had a thought. "Maybe my father and Lord Rockfur are leading an attack to rescue us!"

"Maybe." Lagworth sounded unsure. "My memory seemed kinda fuzzy, but I think that wolverine chap was calling for a duel – or some balderdash like that."

Charlie shot him a glare. "Well that's helpful," he said sarcastically.

Lagworth shrugged. "Like I said, I can't remember."

They both looked over as Blue-Eyes' sleek figure suddenly walked into the tent, followed by two burly rat guards covered with tattoos.

The tall weasel nodded his head and pointed a claw at the two bound cadets. "Take these two to the outer edge of the camp and keep them guarded," he addressed the two vermin accompanying him, "And try to be subtle. I don't want Emperor Baro to know anything about this if I can help it."

The two large rats grabbed Charlie and Lagworth and, following Blue-Eyes, frog marched them through the camp until they came to a larger-than-usual dune – Jagged rocks randomly poking out from its sandy surface.

Blue-Eyes' eyes practically burned holes through the two rats when he stopped and turned toward them.

"Listen carefully." The weasel kept his voice low. "Stay here and don't let anybeast touch these two. If they escape, or if so much as a patch of their fur is harmed, I'll have you both skinned and roasted alive with oil."

The weasel spoke in such a matter-of-fact way, that it was hard to tell if he was serious or not. However, his hard gaze hinted that he was a beast that was true to his word. His threats weren't to be taken lightly.

"Aye sir!" One of the rats replied cheerfully, smiling. "We'll take care o' 'em like they were our own. Won't we, matey?" he nudged his companion in the ribs – who nodded enthusiastically.

"You'd better." Blue-Eyes sniffed. "You're lives _do_ depend on it after all."

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 **SALAMANDASTRON'S NORTH SHORE**

Baglarr's otters walked along the outside of the company, acting as the vanguard. Tragg, Tilda, and Flugg were placed in the middle along with the other newly-freed woodlanders. As they got closer and closer to Salamandastron, their hopes began to rise. They were looking forward to a good meal in the safety of one of the most heavily guarded fortresses in the Lands.

It was by mere chance that Tragg happened to spot Bertvar and his slavers. The young shrew had turned his head idly as he scratched at an itch on his shoulder. His jaw dropped open with horror as his eyes caught sight of the small vermin army close on their heels. They had appeared to come out of nowhere, and were rapidly closing the distance between the two groups.

"It's Bertvar!"

More and more beasts started yelling as they too say the fast-approaching vermin. The woodlanders began to panic as they tried to figure out what to do.

"It's them! We're doomed!"

"We'll be made slaves again!"

Baglarr and his otter warriors quickly tried to calm them down with words of encouragement.

"Keep calm! If we keep our heads cool we'll stand a better chance!" Baglarr called out, pointing toward the form of the mountain fortress. "We're so close! We'll be safe soon! Hurry! Th' vermin won't dare follow us once we reach th' base of th' mountain!"

A small mouse lad in front of Tragg tripped, falling face first on the sandy ground. Tragg helped him up onto his footpaws, coaxing him on. "Come on, little fella. We're almost there!"

"I– I can't do it!" The small creature panted, tears running down his terrified face. He clutched Tragg's arm. "P-please don't leave me! Don't let the bad beasts get me!"

Tragg grunted as he lifted the mouse onto his shoulders. The lad was nothing but skin and bones – making Tragg's job of carrying him easier.

 _I guess being starved does that to a beast…_

"Don't worry," Tragg said, trying to comfort himself as much as the young rodent, "I won't let 'em get ye." Taking a quick glance behind him, he added silently to himself, _Or I'll die trying._

0000000000000

Bertvar drove his slavers on relentlessly, trying to eat up the distance between them and their former slaves.

"Come on, you lazy lot! My grannie could move faster than the likes of you!"

The wolf gazed ahead and saw that the otters and other woodlanders had picked up their pace dramatically. It was obvious that they had seen them. Bertvar muttered a curse under his breath then continued to urge his beasts on to greater speed.

"We can't let them reach the mountain! Move those footpaws! One, two! One, two!"

Bertvar, after a brief calculation, finally realized that his troop wouldn't be able to catch up the woodlanders in time. Days of rowing, marching, and guarding slaves late into the night had taken their toll on the vermin. The wolf knew he'd have to relent if he didn't want a mutiny on his paws.

 _Hellgates! But we are so close._ The wolf snorted. _Those blasted otters! Why did they have to show up? Things would've gone a lot easier if they hadn't meddled into things._

Bertvar shouted for his slavers to come to halt.

Some dropped to the ground as they tried to catch their breath.

Furgly and Grunner walked up to their master, the former scratching his head, showing his confusion.

"Why didn't we keep going?" Furgly asked. "We could've caught 'em!"

"We most likely would've, but then," Bertvar replied, "we'd practically be in Salamandastron's shadow. If the Badger Lord sent out his hares after us, we'd be in serious trouble."

"Oh… Yeah, that makes sense. So, uh, what do we do now? Go back home?"

"No! I'm not going to return empty-pawed from all of this!" Bertvar shook his head and glanced around. "Grunner, I want you to pick out some scouts and check out the surrounding area. We'll regroup over there." He indicated a group of dunes covered with dying dry bushes. "It's likely that there should be some villages or towns nearby. After all, why wouldn't there be? Living right beside The Long Patrol would surely have the benefits of protection and the like. We'll see if we can pick up some new slaves up, then cut and run. Now go."

The weasel saluted. "Be back in a jiff, Boss!"

By the time Bertvar and his slavers had hidden themselves behind the dunes, Grunner and his paw-picked scouts had returned – along with a white-furred ermine in their possession.

"We found this one spying on us." Grunner poked the ermine with the butt of his spear. "Pretty silent fellow. He wouldn't answer our questions. He just demanded we'd take him to our boss."

Bertvar frowned and looked down at the captive. "Is that so? Well here I am. And who exactly are you?"

The ermine had a certain air of confidence about him. He met the much larger creature's gaze without flinching. "I'm a captain in Emperor Baro Steelclaws' service. The rest of my patrol has probably already reported back tae him by now. If anything happens tae me, ye can bet your hide that he'll have your skins for rugs."

Bertvar noted that the ermine had a bit of a northern accent. The wolf guessed that he was a snowlander of some sort. "Where is your master exactly?"

"We are everywhere. My master's forces number the leaves in an autumn gale. Salamandastron will fall first, then the Lands. It would only be by his great mercy that you would walk away from here alive."

 _This could be the chance I've been waiting for._ Bertvar realized that if a horde was launching an assault on a place as strong as Salamandastron, it would mean that they would need every soldier they could get. And if the price was right… Yes, things would brighten up considerably.

"Well, captain, how would you feel about escorting me to your master? I think I'd like to meet with him."

0000000000000

 **SALAMANDASTRON**

The mountain's large gates closed with a mighty _boom_ once the last of the hares filed into Salamandastron – And not a moment too soon. Baro and his forces had almost caught up with the fleeing woodlanders. Askarr and Colonel Brewster barked out orders and rallied the archers and slingers to their posts.

"Where the bloody fur has His Lordship gone?" Brewster muttered to himself. He hadn't seen Rockfur ever since they had gotten back. After he checked to make sure that the vermin horde had been successfully driven back, the colonel left the Long Patrollers in the other officers' care while he went to search for Lord Rockfur.

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Lord Rockfur stared up at the Forge Room ceiling, his expression blank. He was stretched out on his bed with his arms folded over his chest. The bandages on his arm had fallen off, leaving the wound exposed.

He didn't flinch or move so much as a hair as the door to the Forge Room creaked open.

"Sah?" Colonel Brewster's head poked in. Hearing no response whatsoever, the hare sighed and entered, closing the door behind him. "We laid Urthblaze's body in one of the rooms in the lower levels. When this is all over, we'll give him a proper funeral worthy of his sacrifice." Brewster's face was full of concern. "Are… Are you going to be okay, Sah?"

"It was my fault." The four, simple words rumbled from the badger's chest like a muted thunder. Rockfur's face was totally still, seemingly devoid of emotion.

"I just… I really thought that it my destiny." He went on. "After this…this mess was figured out, I'd retire and he'd become the new Badger Lord. I–I even made him a brand new suit of armor. I…" He blinked as tears fell from his eyes. "I could just imagine the surprised look on his face when he would see it. A-And I'd tell him how proud I was of him. It– it wasn't supposed to end like this. Not him. It should've been me. It's…It's my fault."

Colonel Brewster moved over to him and clasped the Badger Lord's massive shoulder with a surprisingly strong paw. "It was _not_ your fault, M'lord. What do you think Urthblaze would say –"

"Urthblaze is dead!" Rockfur shouted, pushing the old colonel away from him. "Don't feed me any of this dung about how he would've wanted me to 'go on with my life' or anything like that! Urthblaze. Is. Dead!"

The old warrior bowed his head forward and wept, tears falling onto his lap.

After a long while, he seemed to have calmed down somewhat and looked back up. Brewster could see the raw pain and sorrow in Rockfur's eyes.

"I'm sorry, Colonel." Rockfur brushed a paw across his face. The action itself seemed to drain what little strength he had left from him. "I know that I need to be strong. I need to be the mighty, steadfast leader of the mountain – just like all my predecessors. But, hellgates, it's hard."

Brewster sat down beside the badger. He hesitated for a brief moment, then, gathering his courage, pressed on. "Do you remember when my wife died, Sire? Do you remember all of the things you said when you tried to comfort me? I say, Sah, you tried to use every trick in the bally book, and yet still I only pushed everybeast away – even you." The hare closed his eyes and sighed. "Well, I have to say, the words themselves didn't do a lick of good. Not a bit. Do you know what matter the most to me, even though I didn't even realize it at the time?"

"What?"

"You stuck by me, through thick and thin, and you wouldn't give up, no matter how much I would beat myself up. I only want to do the same for you. I'm going to stick by you no matter what."

The Badger Lord slowly shook his head. "What did I ever do to deserve a friend like you, Brewster?"

The colonel's mouth split into a grin. "Oh, pish-posh, think nothing of it, M'lord. Wot wot. You set me up with the love of my life. Without you, I never would've married and had Charlie as a son. I will always be in your debt, sah."

"And I in yours," Rockfur replied. The badger stood up. "You're right. I'll get Charlie and Lagworth back, Brewster. It's what Urthblaze would've wanted." His eyes narrowed as they seemed to come alive with a burning flame. A flame that had had almost been on the verge of dying, yet had been rekindled. "We _will_ get them back. And that wolverine will pay for what he has done."


	57. Chapter 56

**Author Note:**

 **For those that don't know, I added a scene in chapter 50 that explained what happened to Chief Bugfoot and the water rats. I advise you to read it for yourself, but if not, I can basically just summarize it by saying that Bugfoot heard about Bertvar losing his slaves, and decided it was time to cut and run, taking the boats with him.**

 **Review responses:**

 **Grey: No redemption for poor Lagworth? Well, I wanted to get the point across that he's annoying, so I'm glad that you think he is.**

 **I agree 100%. He's not good at coming up with very good excuses. Then again, maybe I just don't understand him, as he would say. XD**

 **A lovely chat to be sure. :-P However, keep in mind that Bertvar was quite young when his kin got murdered. And… You know what, I'll probably be able to clarify more on it later. Evil spoilers…**

 **So, like a back flash showing his wife's death? Hmm. I see your point. I dunno though. It might've been jarring unless I handled it correctly, but I still like the idea.**

 **Happy reading to you!**

000000000000000

 **SALAMANDASTRON**

"I say, wot wot, we've got a blinking group of beasts coming our way!"

Hares began to flock over to the northern side of the crater as the sentries stationed there began to yell out excitedly.

"They're woodlanders!" One of the hares said, hopping up and down. "It looks like they're being chased by a horde of those bloody vermin. Celery and fiddlesticks! Do you see the size of that one cad leading the chase? Even from this distance he makes the others look tiny!"

A sergeant came running up to Major Phillip – who was the highest ranking officer on the crater currently – and saluted hastily.

"Requesting permission to lead a squad to help those beasts down there, sah," the sergeant said.

"Righto!" Major Phillip nodded his head. "Permission granted. We'll cover your backs."

The hare patrol climbed down the crater and half-ran half-climbed down the steep slope, armed and ready for anything. The otters and slaves gave a scattered cheer when they saw them. The small hare patrol guided them up the last few steps. Their presence alone was enough to inspire the woodlanders to force their weary bodies up the last lap.

Tragg gasped out encouragingly to the mouse he carried in his arms, "Help is here! We're safe now, laddie."

Flugg and Tilda were also helping the other young children along.

"We've made it!" Flugg exclaimed. "I knew we would!"

Tilda rolled her eyes and snorted. "That's not how I remember it. Weren't you the one who was saying–"

"Ach… Less talk more walk, that's what I always say," Flugg quickly interjected, speeding his pace.

The other beasts wove up the jagged mountain slope until finally, after what seemed like an eternity they had all made it to the top of the crater.

The hares crowded by the parapet and helped the exhausted creatures. A messenger had already been sent to the lower levels and the news about the woodlander group spread like wildfire.

Chief Askarr Bonecrusher came running up onto the crater. Seeing Baglarr, he went over and clapped the other otter on the back.

"Hoho, me bucko, ye made it! Congratulations! Say, where did all of these other creatures come from? They look pretty beat up."

"Mind if we explain over a bowl of hotroot soup?" Baglarr asked, grinning wearily, "Haven't eaten for a while."

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"Tragg, Flugg, you both have got to see this!"

Tilda ran up to Tragg and Flugg and gestured for them to follow her. They both shot each other confused glances, but followed her.

The three shrews went over to the southern side of the crater. A few of the sentries sent them curious looks but didn't stop them.

"See," Tilda said, indicating the shore below with a nod, "Take a look at that."

Tragg's jaw dropped open, and Flugg let out a gasp when they both caught sight of the vermin army's camp. Judging by the tents alone, they could see that there were easily thousands.

"Where did _they_ come from?" Flugg asked aloud.

"I asked a guard. He said that Salamandastron's has been under siege for a while now. He said we all were very lucky that we got past their lines."

"By thunder," Tragg grumbled, "Ye'd think that we 'ave a big old cloud o' bad luck hanging o'er our heads or something! Isn't there _anywhere_ we can go tae wit'out bad things happenin'?"

Flugg scratched the fur on his chin slowly as he looked down at the combined force of snowlanders and corsairs. "Hmm… It seems that we jumped out o' the frying pan 'n' fell right into the fire."

"Hey you three, what are you jolly-well think you're doing over here? Eh, wot?"

As Tragg, Flugg, and Tilda were looking down at the vermin camp, Major Phillip caught sight of them and walked over, a curious expression on his face.

"Well?" The black hare pressed. "Why aren't you fellows stuffing your faces along with the others, eh? Put some meat on those skinny bones."

Tilda took another look down at the vermin camp. "Thank you, sir, but a sight like that down there doesn't exactly give you an appetite."

"Balderdash, my girl! Food is just what a beast needs in dark times such as these!" He glanced from Tragg's eye to the bloody scratches on Flugg's arm. "Maybe you should all tootle pip on down to the infirmary."

Flugg glanced down at his wounds. "Yeah. We had a run-in wit' some toads. Though, I might pass about going tae the infirmary. I'm sure there are beasts in much worse shape than me."

"We wouldn't want tae be a bother…" Tragg added.

"Nonsense! Besides, I hear that the Head Cook is preparing food like crazy for all of you newcomers. Once you're all done seeing the Doc, they'll be some prime scoff! Heh, Ol' Cookie won't let any of _us_ get close to it, though. He wouldn't dream of it. Fiddlesticks… That beast can sure swing a ladle. And I would know." He rubbed a bruise on his left paw. "Lord Rockfur should put _him_ in the front lines. He'd sure send those vermin scoundrels running for their bally lives! Wot wot. Hitting an innocent starving officer's noble paw… The audacity of that fellow!"

Flugg touched the tip of his forehead in a polite gesture. "Thank ye, mister. Say, would ye be able tae lead us tae the kitchens? None of us have been here afore. An' I don't have a good history wit' finding mae way through underground tunnels."

"Hah!" Tragg grinned. "That's the understatement o' the season."

"Of course I can escort you," Major Phillip said in response to Flugg's question. He turned and indicated for them to follow him. "Come on, my dear shrew chappies. Let's go! The vittles await!"

0000000000000

Major Phillip led them down the infirmary. The head healer, Old Ben, was working like a maniac, snapping out orders to his fellow healers. He put a paste on Flugg's arm. For Tragg, they did their best to clean whatever they could around his missing eye then patched it up with an eyepatch made from a black cloth.

Once they were all done, Phillip brought the three shrews down to the Mess Hall. The Head Cook had prepared a meal of vegetable soup, along with some bread and pear cordial.

The mountain was still under siege, so the food wasn't as plentiful as it could've been. However, the newly freed slaves didn't seem to mind. Most of them wolfed it down like there was a ten season long famine coming their way, while others closed their eyes and ate slowly, savoring every bite.

Major Phillip showed them where to line up, and the three shrews were given their food. The four of them sat down by one of the empty tables.

Tragg sat down and began to spoon in his food. He paused eating for a moment as he caught sight of something. "Psst. Hey Flugg," he whispered, nudging his cousin. Once Flugg looked up from his food, Tragg pointed at a pair of nearby hares. The two creatures had depressed looks on their faces as they walked past. "Look at 'em," Tragg said, "Ye'd think they just got back from a funeral or something."

"The entire Long Patrol is grieving," Major Phillip explained. His sharp ears had heard their words. His eyes filled with sadness as he went on, "We lost one of our bravest fighters today, not long before you chaps showed up. He was a brave young badger." He sighed and shook his head. "Ah. He would've grown to be a great beast had he lived to a ripe old age."

"We're sorry to hear that." Tilda's eyes were full of sympathy. "He sounded like a good creature."

"Thank you."

They remained silent for a while, each with their own thoughts as they ate.

000000000000

They had finished their food – Flugg had gone and asked for a third helping from the Head Cook, and it hadn't gone very well – so they asked Major Phillip if he would show them around the mountain a bit.

"Sure thing!" the hare replied when he was asked. "I have a few spare minutes up my sleeve. Wot wot."

Tilda announced that she wanted to go find a room to take a nap in, and for them to go on without her. "I'm sure you'll all have fun!" She said. "We'll most likely be cooped up in here for a while. I'll see the sights eventually."

Tragg and Flugg bid her farewell then followed Major Phillip as he left the Mess Hall, both struggling to keep the lanky hare's pace.

He showed them the cellars, where they stored barrels of wine and water. He explained that while they had access to their very own inbuilt underground spring (Legend said that Urthwite the Mighty had been the one to install it), Lord Rockfur didn't want to rely solely on it for fresh water.

They wandered around, peeking into the infirmary and dorms. Phillip mentioned how it was likely that many of the empty rooms would be used to house the newly arrived woodlanders.

They were on their way to the kitchens when the major received word that he was needed elsewhere. Bowing, Phillip left.

"So… what do ye want tae do now?" Flugg asked Tragg once the hare had gone.

Tragg shrugged. "Explore some more I guess." He winked. "At least this time, I'm here tae hold yer paw in case ye get lost. Eh, cousin?" He waggled his eyebrows and grinned.

"That only happened one time, for Fate's sake…" Flugg mumbled. "Honestly."

Tragg punched him on the shoulder. "Come on now. Cheer up! I'm only jokin'. Now…" He rubbed his paws together. "…Where should we go first, eh? Th' kitchens?"

"Nae... I think that cook would do somethin' truly wicked if I showed up on his stompin' ground. Ach… Ye should've seen th' glare he gave me when I asked for more food. Hmph. Doesn't he know that creatures have a right tae eat."

Shaking his head slowly, Tragg smiled. "Come on then. Let's find someplace else tae explore."

000000000000000

 **EAST OF SALAMANDASTRON**

The ermine scout captain led Bertvar and his slaves through the dunes east of the mountain. Their footpaws sank into the soft, hot sand as they plowed on, weapons held at ready.

"My master's forces should just be over the next few dunes," the ermine told Bertvar.

At first, the ermine hadn't been too keen on the idea of bringing the wolf into his Master's camp, but after seeing his hesitation, Bertvar told him that he only wanted to meet with Baro and that, if everything went well, he could prove to be quite a powerful ally. It also helped when Bertvar pointed out that he could have him tortured until he gave in.

"Good." The wolf drew his scimitar. "I'm glad that you decided to be so helpful."

The white-furred vermin spat on the ground then kept walking.

Bertvar held up his paw, indicating for the band to halt. He beckoned Furgly and Grunner over to him.

"Go over the next couple dunes up ahead and tell me what you see. Make sure you're not spotted."

"Aye, sir!"

"On it!"

Eager to impress their master, the two captains almost tripped over each other as they began to half-run, half-crawl up the hill, keeping low.

"That ermine scum had better not be lyin' 'bout all this," Grunner scowled, losing his footing and tripping. "Fer all we know, he could be leadin' us into a trap of some sort."

"Just sharrup an' keep quiet," Furgly shot back. He scoffed. "Honestly, how you managed t' become a captain is beyond me."

They were almost at the top now. Moving forward as slowly as possible, Furgly poked his head up. His eyes widened with surprise at what he saw.

"By the fangs of Cluny!" he hissed under his breath, "That ermine was right! There're thousands of 'em!"

The camp sprawled out in front of them seemed to go further than the eye could see. Some of the soldiers were milling about idly, others drilling, or fighting over a cup of grog with their mates.

"Didn't think there would be so many," Grunner gave a low whistle, "Let's go tell th' boss."

They began to make their way carefully back when Furgly's ears suddenly twitched.

"Wait!" He glanced around. "Ye hear that?"

"Hear what– 'ellgates!"

A spear seemed to fly out of nowhere and grazed Grunner's left footpaw. The weasel let out an undignified screech and leapt into the air, yelling out a whole list of curses in his panic.

White furred creatures appeared on the top of the dune to their right. Leading them was a massive wolverine.

"Don't let them get away!" Baro roared to his creatures, "They might be spies!"

Furgly and Grunner didn't know what the wolverine and his beasts were doing this far from the camp, but they didn't intend to stay and ask. The fox and weasel scrambled to where they knew Bertvar and the others were.

"Help!"

"We're under attack!"

Baro, who was leading the charge, suddenly stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the wolf slavemaster. Bertvar and his slavers had heard the cries and had jumped up, preparing their weapons. Baro's soldiers also ceased charging when they saw their emperor hesitate. Eyes grew wide and jaws dropped open as they laid eyes on a creature who looked as large and fearsome as their own master, if not more so!

There was a pause as both sides stared at each other, uncertain what to do. They were roughly even in numbers, and it was assumed by both leaders that a fight between them would lead to much bloodshed for slaver and snowlander alike.

Bertvar, ever one to grasp hold of a situation, said, "Ah. You must be the beast I was looking for. Fear not, we come in peace."

Now that the silence was broken, the snowlanders calmed down slightly. Their bristling fur relaxed and they glanced to Baro, waiting to hear his answer to the wolf's question.

The wolverine let out a low growl as he took a step forward. "I'm assuming those two are _your_ creatures," he said, indicating Grunner and Furgly. Bertvar nodded.

"Yes. They're my creatures."

"On our way back to camp, we spotted them skulking around like a pair of no-good spies. Care to explain _that_?"

"Ah. So you're the infamous Baro Steelclaws, hmm?" Bertvar pursed his lips. "I think we have something that belongs to you…"

He gestured for his slavers to bring the ermine captive forward. The scout inwardly winced as Baro's hard gaze fell on him.

"One of your scouts, I believe?" The wolf rested his scimitar's point in the ground. "It's seems that we've both misunderstood one another. My name is Bertvar the Slavemaster. I wish to employ my beasts and I into your service." He ended his statement with a small bow.

Baro looked momentarily confused. "Wait. Let me get this straight. You want to work for me? Are you mercenaries? How can you be if you call yourself 'The Slavemaster?' I've never heard of slavers being fighters. The ones I meant are slinky scoundrels. I wouldn't trust them with a wooden spoon."

"Well you haven't met _this_ slaver." Bertvar replied smoothly.

The wolverine and the wolf held each other's gaze, neither unwavering. Studying, assessing.

"…Well, Slavemaster Bert," Emperor Baro finally said, "You strike me as an… intriguing fellow. Perhaps we should see if we can help each other. Follow me. It seems that we have a few things to discuss."


	58. Chapter 57

**Author Note:**

 **Waycaster: Indeed. Poor Tragg. :P Ah well, at least he's safe in Salamandastron!...for now. *Chuckles evilly***

 **The Grey Coincidence: Yep. Slowly but surely, all of the separate plotlines are gathering together. It'll be sad when I finally finish TGW, but hey, all things have an end. (Besides, there's always sequels and prequels! :P)**

 **["Only time will tell... Coz you won't coz evil spoilers :P"] Pretty much. XD**

000000000000000

 **VERMIN CAMP**

A corsair messenger came to Blue-Eyes' tent and told him that Baro wanted to see him.

As the weasel followed the messenger, his keen eyes immediately noticed that things weren't normal. Snowlanders and corsairs alike were whispering and murmuring to each other in low tones.

 _Something's up,_ Blue-Eyes thought. He instinctively rested his paw on his rapier hilt as he saw a group of vermin gathered, looking at something in the center of the camp.

Blue-Eyes followed his guide through the crowd, pushing the other creatures out of his way.

"Move over! Out of my way," he snapped, "What are you all gawking at anyway?"

He looked forward and caught sight of Baro. The weasel's eyes widened when he saw the emperor's towering companion.

 _By the fangs of King Leonard the Third!_ He thought, _Now that's what I call a hulking brute!_

Blue-Eyes had heard of wolves before, but he had never actually seen one. Trying to act unperturbed, the weasel walked forward.

"You wanted me, Baro?" Blue-Eyes swept his gaze at Bertvar and looked the wolf up and down. "How did you happen to stumble over such a lucky find?"

"I'm right here, you know," Bertvar said, grinning slightly, "I can hear you just fine."

"Allow me to introduce you to Bertvar the Slavemaster." Baro gestured to the wolf. "He and his band of mercenaries will help us take the mountain."

Bertvar nodded as everybeast in the crowd stared at him. "Indeed. The more the pay, the longer my slavers and I will stay."

"Oh I wouldn't trouble yourself over that," Baro smiled. "Once we take over Salamandastron, there will be enough gold for all!"

"So where exactly did you spring up from?" Blue-Eyes inquired, looking up at Bertvar. "It certainly is coincidental timing."

"Well, I had been escorting a large sum of slaves to the coast when we ran into some trouble with reptiles. In all of the confusion, the slaves got away."

"All of them?" Blue-Eyes raised an eyebrow. "Goodness. That must have been dreadful. Maybe next time you should keep a closer eye out, hmm? We wouldn't want you to make errors like _that_ while you're enjoying your stay with us."

"Naturally." Bertvar stiffened momentarily at the weasel's implied message. "Don't worry. I never make the same mistake twice. But let me continue. After we lost – ahem, I mean, after the slaves escaped, we pursued them to the very base of Salamandastron."

"Well that wasn't very clever." Blue-Eyes pointed out. "You could've lost more than you would've gained in a venture like that."

Bertvar was beginning to have a strong dislike for the blue eyed weasel. However, he was used to dealing and masking his true feelings. He pressed on. "Yes. Anyway, long story short, we bumped into one of your scout captains and he said that he'd take us to Baro. And here we are." He finished with a note of finality. "But Baro told me had a plan of sort." He glanced to the wolverine. "Yes?"

Baro nodded. "Aye. Follow me. I'll show you the tool of destruction that will win us entry into the mountain."

000000000000

"Wait… That's your plan?"

Hookarm eyed the operation before him with a skeptic gaze.

Baro had led the group of vermin leaders to the outskirts of the camp, where he showed them what he and his paw-picked beasts had been assembling: A massive battering ram set on a platform. Or at least, that was what Baro told them. Currently, it consisted of massive piles of steel, lumber, and other materials.

"Why, it's not even built yet!" Hookarm exclaimed, folding his arms. "I thought ye said that this would ensure our victory?"

"One of the reasons why I have been holding back my force's full strength is because the weapon was having difficulties. However, after days of work, it's finally ready."

Blue-Eyes raised his eyebrow. "You could've fooled me. It looks pretty… unprepared, for lack of a better word."

"I think the word that ye're lookin' fer is a big ol' darn _mess_." Hookarm muttered.

Baro continued on, ignoring their comments. "I had the weapon put together a while ago and my engineers tested to see if it was all shipshape. One problem with war machines this size however, is that we'll have to take it apart if we want to move it around anyway far. I'll have my troops double their shifts and it should be in position by tomorrow morning."

"So what is it exactly?" Bertvar asked. "What does it do?"

"That, my friend, is what you shall see first thing tomorrow."

000000000000

 **SALAMANDASTRON**

The sunset was always a beautiful sight to see from the mountain's crater. Nature, as always, was totally unaffected and continued on, regardless of the fact that Salamandastron was under siege.

Colonel Brewster had gone to admire the view before he turned in for the night when he saw Amber standing alone by the southern parapet.

The old hare officer went over and stood beside her.

"How's One-Ear doing?" Brewster asked her. "He looked like his leg was in a pretty rough shape when I saw him."

"Father's in the Infirmary," Amber replied, "The doctors said that the best thing for his leg is peace and quiet. They kicked me out, so I came up here."

"We're very bloomin' fortunate to have him back. Wot wot. The mountain needs bally brave beasts like him."

Amber gave a fond smile. "I know. I was so scared that father wasn't going to come back this time. I keep thinking that his leaving would get easier, but it doesn't. Whenever my friends or loved ones leave, I feel like… I just wish…" Amber straightened her shoulders and gave a sigh. "What do you think the chances are? For Charlie and Lagworth, I mean."

Brewster fixed his gaze on the shore below. His eyes filled with sadness as he thought of the likely fate of his son. "All I know is, if there is a way that I can free them, I'll do it, no matter the cost."

Amber followed his gaze. "Charlie is pretty jolly-well lucky that you're his father, Sah."

"Thank you, m'gal." The old hare smiled. The two of them looked down at the vermin torches on the shore in a companionable silence. Brewster let out a short cough. "It's getting late. You should probably go and get some rest. After all, you never know when you'll be able to get a solid night's sleep with this confounded siege."

The young cadet nodded. "I want to see if the healers will let me see Da. I don't care what they say, I'm his daughter. If I want to be by his side, then they can't stop me!"

"That's the spirit!" Brewster winked. "You tell those healers that I sent you. If they have any questions, tell them I'll be in my jolly old office. Eh, sound good? Wot wot."

Amber saluted. "Thanks, Sah! I will!" she called over her shoulder as she dashed off.

Brewster grinned to himself. _Ah, young 'uns. So full of energy. It's hard to believe that I was like that once. Wait, what am I thinking? I'm not old!_ Scoffing, the old hare looked up at the stars.

000000000000000

As night fell, the refugees were led to one of the massive dormitory rooms. Positioned close to the forges, it was one of the warmest rooms in the mountain.

Tragg's footpaw twitched as it slid out from the warmth of his blanket. Grumbling, he turned onto his side and tucked his footpaws in, his eye opening briefly as he did. He gasps softly as he saw a cloaked figure tip-pawing silently toward the door. The creature hesitated for a moment, then turned around and swept its gaze across the room, checking to see if anybeast was awake. .

Staying as still as possible, Tragg waited until the mysterious beast had turned away and, after opening the door with great care, crept out the room.

The moment it was out of sight, the young shrew sat up and went over to where Flugg slept.

"Wake up," he whispered, prodding his cousin until he responded.

"Mmff. What do ye want?" Flugg grumbled, obviously annoyed. "Can't a beast get any sleep around 'ere?"

"Somebeast is sneakin' around. It looks like a thief or somethin'," Tragg explained. "Come on. Let's go see what the beast wants, or at least see who it is."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Flugg got up and looked around. "Should we find a weapon?"

"It'd take too long! Besides, the creature didn't look any bigger 'n us."

Using all of the stealth they could muster, the two shrews crept over to the door – which was still open, thanks to whoever the other beast was – and went into the hallway.

"There," Flugg whispered, pointing ahead of them, "I see 'im. Let's grab 'im afore he hears us."

The cloaked creature was still tip-pawing forward when Tragg leapt forward and flung himself at the beast.

"Come on Flugg! Get 'im!"

"Get off me, you idiot!" The creature yelled, trying to push Tragg away. "It's me!"

Tragg instantly let go as he recognized the voice. "Tilda? Is that ye?"

Tilda huffed as she threw back her cape's hood. She bent down and snatched a small pouch that had fallen from the inside of her cloak during her and Tragg's brief scuffle.

"Er, uh," Tragg stuttered, "What are _ye_ doing 'ere? And what's with th' bag?" – He gestured to the haversack she was holding.

"I could ask you the same thing," she replied, clutching tightly to her haversack.

"Hey," Flugg protested, "In our defense, we weren't the ones sneaking around in the dead of night, cloaked like some thief! How were we–"

He broke off as the faint sound of voices reached their ears.

"The guards must've heard us!" Tilda hissed as she began to run back down the hallway, "Quick, before they find us!"

"Who cares if they find us?" Tragg asked, running beside her.

"Yeah," Flugg added, "We weren't doing anything wrong. At least," he shot Tilda a sideways glance, " _we_ weren't…"

They reached the door to their room and Tilda ushered them in.

"Come on," she said, "I'll explain later. Quick – Pretend like you were asleep!"

Tragg and Flugg hopped into their beds, diving under the covers. Tilda only just managed to scurry underneath Flugg's bed when the flickering light of a torch could be seen by the doorway.

A few moments later, a hare's head popped in and looked around. A few of the other woodlanders, woken by the guard's light, glanced up with weary glances.

"What do you want?" an ancient-looking female vole snapped, squinting her eyes. "Is the mountain under attack, or something?"

"Er, sorry marm…" The hare shuffled back a few steps. "You didn't happen to see any beasts run in here did you? Wot wot."

The vole gave him a withering glare. "No. After all, I _was_ sleeping soundly until you barged in with that torch of yours."

"Ah. Point taken, marm. Ahem, well, let us know if you see anything suspicious. Wot wot."

The hare left the room and closed the door behind him. From where he was, Tragg could hear the guard talking with his comrades, then, after a brief conference, the voices were silent and it sounded like the hares had left.

After waiting until the rest of the awakened refugees had gone back to sleep, Tragg muttered under his breath to Tilda.

"Care tae explain what all this is about, Tilda?" he asked.

The female shrew crawled out from her hiding place, keeping her movements as silent as she could so that hopefully none of the other woodlanders would wake up.

"I…uh…" She paused. Then let out a sigh. "Alright. I guess you both deserve to know the truth."

"Well, isn't that might decent o' ye," Flugg scowled. "Ye know, I thought we were friends. Friends don't keep secrets from each other, or sneak off in th' middle o' th' night alone."

"I was leaving Salamandastron," she explained simply. "I couldn't stay anymore. I have unfinished business elsewhere. The only reason I never left before was because I wanted to make sure you two, and all the other slaves, were safe first."

Flugg and Tragg shot each other confused glances in the darkness.

"Wait…" Tragg scratched his head. "What? This doesn't make any sense. Ye _couldn't_ 'ave left before, even if ye wanted tae. We were prisoners on a boat, remember? Did ye hope tae somehow just magically untie your ropes an' fly away or somethin'?"

A hint of a smile touched the corners of Tilda's mouth. "No. Nothing like that. But believe me, I was only sticking around because I wanted to. There's more ways to escape then flying off like a bird, you know."

"Hold on a moment…" Flugg's face lightened up. "Is that why you suddenly _happened_ tae have a dagger when we were fightin' wit' th' toads? Ye had it all along, didn't ye? Why didn't ye tell us? We could've escaped together!"

"Well, the thing is," Tilda hesitated. "…I sorta made a promise." She held up a paw, forestalling any further questions from the other two shrews. "Just listen and I'll tell you. But remember," She wagged her fist threateningly, "I've never told anybeast this before. If you ever so much as breath a single word about what I'm going to tell you…"

"Don't worry," Tragg replied instantly, "We won't say anything."

"Okay then. So, my family lived in a small cottage just north of the mountains. Da was never home much, he was always away trying to find work, so it was mainly only me, Ma, and my two brothers at the house." Her eyes closed. "I'll never forget the day that Bertvar's goons came. Dirty, lying, murdering scum. Two of them came to our house, begging for us to help and let them in. Ma was a kind hearted soul, always wanting to see the good in everybeast."

Tilda's voice was bitter. "So she let them in, and those…those _vermin_ killed her for her kindness. When they had attacked my brother, she just managed to cut the big one across the side of his face, and he got mad – Real mad. Once they were done with her, they…they…" Her voice trailed off.

"Ye don't have tae tell us if ye don't want tae," Tragg said. "We know how ye feel. We lost loved ones tae vermin too."

Tilda rubbed a paw across her face. "Thanks. I won't go into the details but I'll say this: they had no right to kill them the way they did. Nobeast deserved to die like that."

"How did ye survive?" Flugg asked.

"I hid in a pile of old laundry. I was too frightened to even move. I'll never forgive myself for not doing something to help." She sighed. "Once they were gone, I crawled out and cried, begging for Ma to wake back up." Her voice turned grim as she went on. "That's when I vowed that I would find those two vermin and kill them no matter what it took. I'd heard them talking to each other and I learned their names: Grunner and Barktail. I had tried following their tracks, but ended up getting lost and knocking my head on a branch or something. When I woke up, I was in an old ferret's cave. Apparently he found me and decided to bring me to his home."

"Thank goodness ye met him when ye did" Tragg nodded and smiled.

"I guess he thought of me as the child he had never had. You know, I never thought I'd trust a vermin again after what had happened, but he was different. He fed me, gave me a place to stay, and more importantly, trained me in the art of an assassin. Poisons, knife-throwing, stealth, tracking, everything that I needed to know. And then one day, he was gone."

"Gone?" Tragg and Flugg echoed.

She nodded. "Aye. I remember waking up and he had left. I looked for him, but couldn't find any tracks at all." She smiled. "It was obvious that no matter how much I thought I had learned in the art of tracking and stealth, he was the master."

"What did ye do then?" Tragg scratched his head. "Leave tae avenge your family?" he guessed.

She dipped her head. "It took a while, but long story short, I found out that the two vermin had joined a bigger band led by Bertvar the Slavemaster. I let some of his scouts capture me and, after they had brought me to the camp as a slave, I managed to find out where the beasts I was looking for were."

The other two shrews leaned forward as she went on.

"I was waiting for the right moment to kill either one when Bertvar suddenly decided to ship the slaves out to Terramort. And that's when I disguised myself as one of the simple slaves and I bumped into you two." She couldn't help but grin as she added, "Literally, at least in Flugg's case."

Tragg sat back. This was a lot for him to take in. He glanced over at Flugg and saw that he was also trying to process everything.

Noting their silence, Tilda shrugged. "Well, that's my sad little story. Though, it sounds like you both have had your own share of those. I trust that you understand now why I can't stay. I'd like to, but I have to fulfill my oath."

"But ye can't jus' leave!" Flugg protested.

"I have to. I'd be breaking my word."

"How do ye even plan on gettin' out? We're surrounded by vermin!"

"I could slip through their lines easily." Tilda grinned wryly. "It's not like it should be too hard. We seemed to have gotten in without too much trouble."

"That's different! Some o' the hares were saying that the vermin had doubled the guards 'n' tightened their defenses!"

"Ye should at least wait until the vermin horde is dealt wit'," Tragg added. He looked into Tilda's eyes. "If ye wait a bit longer, then we could go wit' ye!"

Tilda looked slightly surprised. "Really?" She glanced at the two shrews, who nodded their heads.

"Aye!"

"Ye bet we would! After all, what are friends for?"

Tilda glanced to the door, then back at Tragg and Flugg, the hesitation plain on her face. "What if Bertvar leads his goons back north?"

"Then we'll track them down _together_ ," Tragg replied.

"Hmm… Could you give me a bit of time to decide? I'd like to sleep on this."

"Okay. We understand."

"Well then. Goodnight."

Tilda waved to both of them, then crawled into the darkness back to her bed.

00000000000000

As midnight came, foreboding black clouds gathered in the night sky, and the sounds of deep thunder rumbled ominously.

On the shore in front of Salamandastron's gates, Baro Steelclaws stood impassively, watching as his vermin, along with a crew of slaves from the corsair ships, prepared his weapon.

"Sleep tight, woodlanders," the wolverine murmured. "Baro is coming."


	59. Chapter 58

**Author Note:**

 **Waycaster:**

 **As for the battering ram, I agree with you that there are definitely far better war machines out there. However, the mountain *does* have a right to be afraid. After all, *I'm* their author. Anything can happen. Mwhahaha! :P**

 **And as for Brewster's U turn… Lol, yeah, I think I most likely wrote those lines at two seperate times. :P**

 **I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter!**

 **Happy writing to you!**

000000000000000

 **ABOARD THE** _ **GUTKEEL**_

The sunlight peeking in through the cabin window woke Broge from his slumber. The shrew rubbed his eyes with his paw and yawned. Then suddenly, he jerked up into a sitting position.

"Fates be praised!" he said aloud to himself, "The blasted storm is finally over!"

After the _Gutkeel_ had managed to slip away from Terramort, a storm had come howling down from the west without warning, driving the ship on with its mighty winds. If any corsair ships had tried chasing the _Gutkeel_ , it would have become almost impossible for them to find them in the raging waves.

Now, however, after four days, the storm had finally left.

Abe Hardspike waved a friendly paw to Broge as he came out of the captain's cabin.

"Ahoy there!" the hedgehog called, setting down the mop that he had been using to scrub the deck. "That was quite the storm we had, eh?" He smirked.

"Aye," Broge nodded. He sighed as he breathed in the fresh air. "Seen Sharpblade around?" he asked. "I've been meaning tae talk tae him."

"Still sleeping, I think."

"Okay, thanks. I'll go get 'im."

On the morning of the second day of their voyage, there had been a brief scuffle over who was going to be in charge while they were on the _Gutkeel_. Many of the former oar slaves weren't eager for the idea of Slashblade being the leader -even though he had the most experience sailing out of them all. Some of the slaves weren't prepared to take orders from a vermin, no matter how much the others vouched for his loyalty to the cause.

In the end, they had taken a vote and it was decided that Broge was the captain. After all, they had reasoned, he was the beast they looked up to on land, why not on the sea as well? However, Broge had insisted that Slashblade be made the first mate.

The scarred shrew went below deck. Slashblade had taken to sleeping in the first mate's quarters.

He knocked on the door.

"Buzz off," Slashblade mumbled irritatedly from the other side of the door. "I'm tryin' t' sleep."

"It's Broge," the shrew replied. "I need tae talk tae ye. The sea's calmed since last night."

A few brief moments later, Broge could hear sounds of movement as Slashblade got out of bed with a groan. The stoat opened the door and came out, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Broge indicated for the vermin to follow him up the stairs. The two creatures went into Broge's cabin, and the shrew spread a map out on the table.

"Ye've had more experience about seafaring then most o' us," Broge explained, tapping his claw on the map. "How far would ye say are we from land?"

The stoat squinted his eyes. "Hmm. It's hard t' say. Mebbe a few days off the West Coast, mebbe closer. I'd have t' study the charts a bit fer a better guess."

Broge nodded. "Okay. Let me know when ye're done. I'll give ye some room tae work. I was going down tae check on the larder, want me tae fetch ye any vittles?"

"A nice cup o' seaweed grog would hit th' spot, thanks" the stoat replied. "An' maybe some fresh biscuits too, with some nice strawberry jam if there's any."

"Strawberry jam? On a pirate ship?"

Slashblade sniffed. "Of course, why wouldn't there be? Vermin like t' eat well just as much as woodlanders, don't y' know?"

Broge rolled his eyes. "I'll see what I can find."

000000000000000

 **NORTH DUNES**

Lord Nightwrath held up a paw and the company behind him grounded to a halt.

"We'll rest here for the time being and wait for the scouts to report back."

Elmblade and a couple of moles had gone ahead a day ago. So far, there had been no sign of them.

The mole warriors obeyed the new order, gratefully plopping onto the ground as they rested their footpaws.

Rones took a swig from his canteen then smacked his lips.

"Mmm. I don't know when plain ol' water tasted so good," he said, handing the canteen to Rosebud. "Here ye go, Lassie."

The band had made a makeshift bridge from dead logs once the river narrowed enough, then crossed over onto the south bank. Nightwrath had explained that there was a swamp on the north side, one filled with cannibal reptiles, and said that he wanted to avoid them altogether if possible.

The female shrew sipped slowly, mindful not to drink too fast. She wiped a paw across her mouth when she was done. "I'll be glad when we catch up with those slavers," she said. "All this walking isn't doing wonders for my poor footpaws." She wiped sweat from her forehead. "I guess Nightwrath is waiting for Elmblade 'n' the scouts tae report back afore we press on, right?"

"Aye, I think so." Rones stood up. "Let's go ask him."

The badger was talking with Zartac, Axburr, and Dunagan. Nightwrath had talked a lot with the former hedgehog slave ever since he had escaped from Bertvar's gang. Dunagan had told him all he knew about Bertvar's slave trade business.

Nightwrath looked up as Rones and Rosebud came walking up to him.

"Ah, Rones, Rosebud. What can I do for you?"

Rosebud replied, "We were wondering if any o' the scouts returned yet?"

The badger shook his head. "They haven't. I'm going to guess that Bertvar will have a ship waiting for him on the coast, either to sell the slaves to the captain, or to transport them elsewhere. It wouldn't make sense otherwise. Why would he head to the sea after all if not to cross it? Whatever the case, I'm not prepared to follow them across the sea."

"How can ye say that?" Rosebud demanded, her paws on her hip. "We can't have gone this far for nothing! Tragg 'n' Flugg are countin' on us!"

"I'm afraid that there's nothing I could do," Nightwrath replied. He held up a paw, forestalling Rosebud's retort. "However, I'm sure that either the Rogue Crew or the Long Patrol would be willing to help. My moles aren't exactly fond of water, so we wouldn't be very much help unless we were on land, anyways. But don't worry, we might be able to catch them before they reach the sea."

An hour or so later, Elmbalde and two mole scouts reported back in. The moles were sent to Lord Nightwrath, but Elmblade was allowed a few minutes respite with his friends.

"What did ye find?" Rones asked Elmblade. "Have we closed the gap at all?"

The squirrel paused from wolfing down a chunk of nut bread, a gift from the head mole cook, and looked up.

"Ach… I'm not sure." He wiped his mouth with his jacket sleeve. "We found tracks on the southern shore, just past a bunch of wicked looking rapids, which means that Bertvar's gang left the boats and struck out south for some reason. But what's really confusing is the tracks themselves."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Rosebud scratched her headfur.

Elmblade shrugged. "It's kinda hard tae explain. We'll 'ave tae see what Nightwrath makes o' it all first."

A short while later, Axburr came over to Rones, Rosebud, and Elmblade, and told them that Lord Nightwrath wished to see them.

"The vermin seemed to be headed to Salamandastron," the badger told them. "Instead of following their tracks directly, we'll march toward the mountain. It'll be quicker, and hopefully we'll close the distance between us."

"But why in fur's name would the vermin head tae Salamandastron o' all places?" Rones asked with disbelief. "They couldn't be _that_ stupid. There must be some sort of mistake. Why would they do something like that?"

"My mole scouts believe that, guessing from the tracks, the slaves are actually in a separate group, which could mean anything, really, though I have my suspicions. But I'll wait until I've seen more. If we do happen to arrive at the mountain, and the vermin aren't there, we should be able to get help from the Badger Lord. I've heard that Rockfur's a noble warrior. He'll surely help."

"What if the vermin are long gone by then?"

"Then they're gone I guess. I'm sorry, but what do you expect me to do? I'm doing my best. Once we're at the mountain, things will fall on the mountain's ruler to help you since this is his territory."

He nodded to Zartac and Axburr.

"Gather the troops. Let's be off."

000000000000000

 **SALAMANDASTRON**

All of the early wakers in the mountain were in the Mess Hall, wanting to get first dibs at breakfast, before all of the other creatures woke up.

Lord Rockfur was talking with Chief Askarr Bonecrusher, along with Keva and Baglarr, when Private Eric came running into the hall, his feet making a padding sound as they hit the ground.

"Sah! Sah!" The hare's chest was heaving as he skidded to a halt in front of his Badger Lord.

"What is it?" Rockfur rumbled, "What's the matter?"

Waiting a few moments to catch his breath, Private Eric babbled out, "Sah, it's the vermin! They've built some massive machine of some sort and are headin' our bally way!"

The hall was instantly filled with an uproar at the hare's words. Sea otters, Long Patrollers, and slave refugees who had been waiting for breakfast began to run about. The warriors gathered their weapons.

Lord Rockfur had immediately left the hall, Chief Askarr and a small group of otter and hare warriors right behind him, trying to keep up with his long strides.

"Officers!" The Badger Lord boomed from over his shoulder, "Prepare your squads! Fortify the crater! Somebeast find Colonel Brewster, tell him to gather the refugees so that we can keep them all together, and make sure they're safe. I'll be at the main gate!"

"We're comin' with ya!" Askarr said, gripping his axe eagerly. "If there's a chance for me 'n' my lads to poke the vermin in the nose, then we'll want to be there!"

00000000000000

Tragg and the rest of the woodlanders were awakened as a small group of hares came in and began to wake the sleeping creatures who were still asleep.

"W-what's going on?" one of the smaller voles asked.

"We're under attack," one of the Long Patrollers said aloud to the confuzed creatures, "Don't worry, please try to remain calm. Everythin' is under control. We are simply movin' everybeast to another location."

"But why?" A scarred otter asked, glancing fearfully around the room, "Aren't we safe here? Why would you move us if everythin' is shipshape?"

The hare held out his paws as the panicked murmurs began to increase.

"We're moving all of the non-combatants to the same place, so that it'll be easier to keep track without a bunch of beasts running about underpaw. I repeat, there is no need to be alarmed."

All the beasts were led out into the hallway, where an officer was attempting to organize them as well as he could.

Tragg caught sight of Flugg and Tilda talking, and he made his way through the crowd to them.

"I guess I'm staying." Tilda smiled slightly. "I couldn't leave you two to have all the fun of fighting off the vermin without me, could I?"

"That's great!" Tragg grinned at Flugg as he elbowed his cousin jokingly in the ribs. "With the three of us together those vermin will be running with their tails between their legs!"

"Let's go ask that badger for some fancy weapons then, eh?" Flugg rubbed his paws together.

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Blue-Eyes had to admit, there were a few elements to Baro's plan that he thought were fairly clever.

Baro had emptied several of his ships of their oar slaves. He chained the woodlanders together and was using them to haul his weapon. When dawn had arrived, the hare sentries became aware of the activity on the shore close to the mountain's gates, they had hesitated to release arrows on them, for fear of accidentally hitting their fellow woodlanders.

The _Smasher_ was a great battering ram, made of wood with a thick metal cap on the end. It was suspended in the air with chains. All four of its wheels were ridged with iron teeth. The slaves and the vermin pushed it along a track -a simply made one of flat wooden planks. Both the tracks and the _Smasher_ had been constructed beforehand, but had been taken apart and rebuilt.

The combined forces of mercenaries, corsairs, and Snowlanders were assembled. Two-thirds of the entire force was absent. They had been deployed to the north and west of Salamandastron's base, surrounding it. If everything went as planned, they would attempt to swamp the crater top from all sides, while the ram did its work on the gates.

"Looks like our dear friend has decided to join the party," Blue-Eyes said aloud to Hookarm, pointing up at the distant shape of Lord Rockfur. The Badger Lord could be seen surveying the creatures below from one of the windows above the gates.

"Harhar! Aye," Hookarm agreed. Grinning, he drew his cutlass and pointed it in the badger's direction. "Ahoy there, Stripey!" he called, "How's th' view?"

"You know that he can't hear you, right?" Blue-Eyes asked, giving his companion a deadpan look.

"Of course 'e can't." The searat grinned. "If he could, then I wouldn't 'ave called 'im Stripy. Ye can never be too careful with badgers…"

Blue-Eyes simply rolled his eyes in reply.

There was an unnaturally loud whistling sound, and the two corsairs looked up to see an arrow flying through the air to land onto a patch of empty sand.

"That's the first signal," Blue-Eyes said, unsheathing his rapier. "It won't be long now. When the flags are raised, all Hellgates is going to break loose."

000000000000000

Lord Rockfur gazed out at the _Smasher_ from the window, his eyes narrowing.

"Major Phillip," he said, "Gather a score of beasts and barricade the gates with anything you can find. I don't know if that monstrosity will actually be able to break through, but I'm not taking any chances. I'll be up on the crater."

"I'll take some beasts with me and help defend the gates," Keva said to Askarr, "We'll keep those buggers out."

"Good lass," Askarr said, embracing his daughter. "I'll take the others and go with Rockfur. Come up an' join us when the gates are secure, eh?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Keva grinned, shrugging her bow off her shoulder. "Besides, there'll be a lot of targets that need hitting –moving ones."

000000000000000

Amber clutched her spear's shaft tightly as she stared down at the vermin gathered below. Her nose twitched. She and the other cadets had been stationed on the far side facing the sea, but she could still see the vermin from her position. They were rather hard to miss after all.

"Lots of the bloody scoundrels, eh wot."

She looked up to see Colonel Brewster's smiling face. The old hare patted her shoulder and said aloud to the other soldiers gathered on the wall, "But we'll give 'em a licking they won't forget! Ain't that right chaps?"

A scattered cheer went up.

"What was that?" Brewster yelled, pretended to clear out his ear. "Did you all say something? Speak up for pudding's sake! Will we beat those vermin cads or not?"

"Yes, Sah!" the hares all shouted as one.

Brewster winced at the volume. His eyes moistened and he brushed away a stray tear. No matter how many battles he'd help command, the thought of losing any of his cadets left a pit in his stomach. All he could do was prepare them as best he could for what lay ahead."That's more like it! Keep calm, chaps, the Long Patrol is a hard nut to crack, as the vermin are about to find out."

The colonel paced the lines of beasts, offering bits of encouragement here and there, especially to any wet-behind-the-ear cadets, or beasts who he knew had never fought before.

The otter and hare warriors stared down at the vermin below. The vermin, in turn, stared at their commanders. Both sides were waiting. Nobeast knew if they would be the one to survive and live to celebrate their victory, or if they would be one of the many beasts who would die this day.

And then there was the sound of two arrows, both whistling as they shot across the sky. The vermin commanders who heard them ordered their flag bearers to raise their pennants and flags, the movement spread to the other vermin companies as they passed on the signal.

A single horn blared, and the vermin soldiers surged forward, screaming out war cries and brandishing weapons. They ran up the mountainside, some falling to the defenders' arrows, their bodies ignored as their companions jumped over them.

"Hold your positions, chaps!" Brewster yelled. "Here they come!"


	60. Chapter 59

**Author Note:**

 **Waycaster: Lol, yeah. (Thanks, I snuck the marker back in;) ) There were reasons why Broge didn't change the name of the Gutkeel, one of them being the fact that, in case they ran into enemy ships, they could have a slim chance as passing for allies (But, yes, I could probably edit that fact into the story). Plot armor for the win! Will it be enough though? Likely so, but ya never know… (Hey! That sorta rhymed!)**

 **AvengeThem: You caught up! Yay! Hmm. I might do something with the first two, but Redwall Abbey might have to wait a bit. Places to be and battles to fight ya know, wot wot! ;-)**

 **Highwing: You also caught up! Congrats! *Throws pawful of confetti over Wing and Avenge* Aaaaand yes, correct. This is not the last chapter. You know, fun fact of the day, I originally planned for my fic to end at Chapter 60, but… -*Glances at my bulging pile of plotlines*- yeah… :P**

 **The Grey Coincidence: Lol. Yeah. Glad you liked its name! A little simple, but oh well. ;D Btw, from what I remember in** _ **Mariel of Redwall**_ **, Terramort isn't** _ **that**_ **far away from the mountain, but I guess we'll see! :-)**

 **Happy reading to you all!**

000000000000000

 **SALAMANDASTRON**

Lord Rockfur was right up at the front of the ranks, his broadsword held ready as his eyes turned red with Bloodwrath.

As the vermin horde charged into his sword's reach, he let out a mighty roar, shouting the battle cry that echoed so many times on the Western Shores in the past.

"Eulalia!"

The hares beside him took up the cry.

"Eulaliaaa! Death's on the wind!"

And then the vermin were upon them. The vermin leading the frontal assault were armed with long pikes, they thrusted at the bobbing shapes of hares above them on the crater.

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All of the refugee volunteers and new recruits had gone to the Forge Room to select weapons.

Flugg had found a small suit of armor in the corner that was roughly a shrew's size -though a tad too big- and immediately claimed it, along with a rapier. Tilda had selected two dirks and tucked them in her belt, also grabbing a short spear. Tragg donned a helmet and armed himself with a rapier and a small, round, wooden shield with a steel edge. Both Tragg and Tilda wore leather vests.

Tragg was swinging his rapier in small circles in the air, trying to get the feel for it, when a cadet came running into the forge room.

"The vermin have charged the mountain top, chaps! We're gonna need every blinking beast we can jolly-well get!"

Snapping out orders, the captain in charge ushered them out of the room, leading them up a corridor to the crater. Arriving at the top, Tragg squinted as the painfully bright morning light hit his eyes.

The north, east, and south ends of the crater were packed with fighting beasts. Screams and cries filled the air as blades slashed and pikes thrusted.

"Come on, chaps!" The hare captain in front of Tragg yelled, brandishing his weapon as he pointed ahead. "Stay in the rear. You're all the back-up! If you see an opening in our lines, then run over and fill it! Eulaliaaa!"

Tragg had to yell to be heard over the din. "Tilda! Flugg! We all need tae stick together!" His voice was noticeably squeakier and higher than usual.

Flugg thrusted his rapier up into the air, barking out in agreement, "Aye!"

Tilda made eye contact with Tragg and nodded.

000000000000000

There seemed to be no winning side in the initial start of the battle. The hares fought tooth and nail to make sure that the vermin couldn't claw a foothold on the crater top. So far, the woodlanders hadn't been able to drive them back, resulting in a stalemate of sorts.

Down at the mountain's gates, the _Smasher_ hammered on. The vermin and woodlander slaves would haul the monstrous ram back, using ropes and chains, then would release it, the blunted metal cap hitting the gates with a loud _boom_.

The creatures inside were sealing the entrance with anything that came to paw. Benches, furniture, rock slabs, and even bags of dirt were being used.

The woodlanders formed a chain, passing the heavy objects along. Keva turned to pass a rock to the hare beside her, when she noticed a familiar pair of crutches. She glanced up at his face.

"Sergeant One-Ear?! What are you doing down 'ere? You should be up with the wounded!"

"Bah!" The hare replied, trying to snatch the rock from her with one paw. "I'm not crippled for life yet, m'gal! Nobeast is gonna stop _me_ from trying to help! Wot wot."

Keva could see the desperation in his eyes. Since she knew that she most likely wouldn't be able to convince him to leave, she decided to take a different approach.

"Fine, but instead of passing stuff, you could help by keeping all of the refugees calm. All of the other able bodied beasts are either here or fighting, and they don't have anybeast to lead them."

Sergeant One-Ear nodded. "Aye. I'm on it!" Hefting his crutches, he hobbled off, barking at the creatures in his way, "Move over, hare coming through! Pardon me, chaps. Where are those dashed refugees anyways?"

000000000000000

"For Urthblaze!" Lord Rockfur's blade sliced through steel and flesh alike. Killing any vermin who crawled onto the crater. Shearing arms and bashing in skulls with his fist, the Badger Lord of Salamandastron fought, blood covering his fur and armor.

"Die, vermin!"

An ermine darted forward, sliding up like a snake and stabbed Rockfur's leg with her knife. The vermin didn't live long to savor her victory. Rockfur grunted, picking up the ermine and hurling her down the mountain slope. The vermin screamed as she tumbled down.

Rockfur's vision was entirely red, mostly from the Bloodwrath, but partly from actual blood. He wiped a paw quickly over his eyes. The smell of blood assailed his nostrils.

He looked up and saw Brewster a couple of feet away. The colonel was shouting out orders to the other hares, directing them to defend specific parts of the mountain.

The Badger Lord was forced to turn back to take care of his own problems, as more vermin tried to storm past him.

"Eulalia!"

000000000000000

A few vermin had gained a small hold on the crater, so Tragg, Tilda, and Flugg -along with the rest of their company- were ordered to push them back down.

Tragg felt hot and cold all at the same time. His teeth were chattering, yet sweat clung to his clothes and armor. He blinked as he used his shield to block a rat's blow.

As the vermin's weapon caught on the metal ridge of Tragg's shield, Flugg darted over and plunged his rapier into the rat's back.

"Thanks, mate," Tragg gasped.

His cousin didn't have the breath to reply verbally. Instead, he gave Tragg a half-smile and nodded his head. He turned away to thrust his weapon at another vermin.

Tragg's eye wound was throbbing again under his eyepatch. He blinked rapidly. He could see that the woodlanders had finally pushed the vermin off the parapet, but the enemy kept coming.

"For th' Northlands!" the shrew cried, smacking his round shield into a vermin below as the creature tried to crawl up. The ferret's nose was smashed as it was struck with the hard surface of the shield, blood exploding over his face as he fell backwards.

Tilda was on Tragg's right. The female shrew was using her spear to great effect, skillfully stabbing down at the beasts below before they even got a chance to get in sword range. The only ones that she had to watch out for were the vermin armed with pikes -whose weapons outreached hers.

"You there, back away!" Private Eric suddenly yelled, pulling Tragg by the shoulder. "Make way for your replacements! Wot wot! Take a breather!"

The young shrew nodded gratefully.

The hare officers had been rotating the fighters, trying to make it so that everybeast would be able to catch a few brief minutes' respite.

Tragg backed out of the way as two fresh Long Patrollers took his position. Flugg and Tilda joined him, running to find cover in one of the tunnels leading down into the mountain.

A group of other warriors were also resting there, along with a few wounded that had been carried in.

Some warriors carried the wounded into the tunnel. A few medics ran about, trying to patch up the worst of the injuries before sending the wounded down to the mountain's infirmary.

"Are you two alright?" Tilda asked, wiping sweat from her brow, "Any injuries?"

"A few wee ones, but nothin' serious," Flugg replied, wincing as he rubbed a cut on his footpaw. "Apparently, this armor isn't foolproof. What about ye, Tragg?"

"I'm fine, I think." Tragg sighed, leaning his back against the tunnel wall. "Tired as I can be though. I don't think I'll ever get used tae all o' this." His eyes darted back to the fighting just outside the tunnel. "There are no words to describe this... this bloodbath!"

Tragg and Tilda began to assist by loading the wounded on stretchers for the bigger beasts to carry them down, while Flugg brought water to the injured beasts.

000000000000000

"Badger Lord!" The voice boomed over the sounds of the fighting. "Why do you cower behind your walls?"

Lord Rockfur's eyes seemed to burn as he turned his gaze to where Baro stood. The wolverine was down the slope a ways. He carried his massive mace and chain in one paw, and his sword in the other.

"You let other beasts do your fighting for you, coward! I will kill you like I killed that badger whelp! I'll have your flesh fed to my carrion birds!"

A growl rumbled deep in Rockfur's chest. Slicing a vermin in half with a swipe of his broadsword, he leapt over the side of the parapet and began to climb down, roaring only one word, "Eulalia!"

"Sah!" Colonel Brewster cried, "Come back! Sah!"

In his enraged state, Rockfur didn't even hear the old colonel's shouts.

He left a red trail of dead bodies and hewn limbs behind him.

One thought burned through his mind: Killing the sneering wolverine that had murdered Urthblaze.

Baro Steelclaws trembled inwardly as his soldiers before him were thrown aside like rags by the fearsome badger warrior. Steeling his nerves, the wolverine spat on the ground, and ran forward to meet Rockfur's wild charge.

The two mighty beasts met in a shower of sparks as their weapons clashed. The wolverine scrambled back a few steps, trying to keep out of sword range, and using his mace and chain to keep the badger at bay.

000000000000000

Rockfur's absence left a gap in the woodlanders' defence. Brewster and Private Eric were desperately trying to fill in his position. Even with reinforcements rushed in, the defenders were hard pressed to keep the vermin from flooding up.

"We've got to help his Lordship!" Brewster yelled, his saber blocking a ferret's pike thrust. "He'll get himself bally surrounded if he stays down there! Wot!"

"Agreed, old chap!" Private Eric winced as a spear nicked his shoulder. "I'll take a patrol and go get him! You stay here and keep things from going bloomin' bonkers, eh wot?" He broke off as the vermin ranks charged forward again. "Dash it all!" Eric exclaimed, stabbing a corsair in the neck, "Their numbers never seemed to jolly-well end!"

000000000000000

Baro's mace and chain had smashed into Rockfur's shoulder, knocking the Badger Lord over. His armor luckily took most of the damage. Grunting, he got back on his footpaws in time to block another swing with his sword.

"Die, you old fool!" Baro Steelclaws laughed.

Rockfur leapt forward and tackled the wolverine, the two of them rolling down the mountain slope a ways. Vermin soldiers desperately got out of their way.

Just when it looked like Rockfur had the upper paw, tragedy struck.

Bertvar the Slavemaster seemed to appear out of nowhere. The wolf hit the back of Rockfur's head with his scimitar pommel. Then, lifting him off Baro, he threw the Badger Lord down the mountain slope.

Rockfur rolled until his head smacked against a rock and he went limp.

The wolf lifted his scimitar in the air, and called out loudly to the surrounding soldiers, "They've no badger to save them now! Kill them all!"

000000000000000

"Rockfur!"

Private Eric had to grab the furious colonel as Brewster tried to charge down to his Badger Lord.

"No! You'll be killed!"

"Dash it all! I'm gonna kill those scum!"

"You're our leader now! We'll kill those vermin, sah, but we'll let them come up to us! Wot! We can't lose you too!"

Brewster didn't have a chance to reply as the bulk of the vermin army once again surged up toward them.

000000000000000

Askarr Bonecrusher knocked the weapon out of a nearby vermin's paw, and the chieftain head-butted him. The unconscious vermin dropped to the ground.

Using his axe, he chopped a vixen's head off her shoulders. He blinked as a shout reached his ears.

"Chief! Chief!" Baglarr fought his way to Askarr's side. "Lord Rockfur's down!" he cried, "Vermin are taking over the eastern crater!"

"Let's go get 'em then!" Askarr Bonecrusher replied, "There's not a moment to lose!"

"Right behind ye, Chief!"

000000000000000

Bertvar and Baro stormed the crater wall together, accompanied by an elite force bearing pikes and spears, and another with crossbows. The two massive creatures gained a section of the crater top.

Colonel Brewster led his hares in a countercharge, when an unlucky stab from a pikebeast stabbed him in the shoulder.

The hare colonel yelled with pain, twisting his body as he fell to his knees. Private Eric threw his weapon at the pikebeast, killing the vermin.

The rest of the hares surged past them, giving the two beasts a brief respite from the thick of the fighting.

Brewster grunted with pain as Eric tore a rag from his own shirt and pressed it against the colonel's wound.

"Hold that there!" Eric said, "We'll move you down to safety!"

Brewster looked past him at the fighting. The woodlanders were being pushed back.

"Bring up everybeast we've got!" Brewster ordered, "I want any creature who can bear a weapon up here, cadets, refugees, the whole lot! If we lose the crater, then Rockfur died for nothing, and the mountain will fall!"


	61. Chapter 60

**Author Notes:**

 **(Before starting this chapter, I would advise you all to go back and re-read the last few lines in the chapter before this. I edited some of the dialogue with Brewter at the very end. Just the last few lines. Just thought I'd let y'all know. :D )**

 **AvengeThem: I'm glad you liked the fight scenes so far! And yep, Tragg isn't the same shrew he was before. I mean, besides the lessons he's learned from his journey and all that, he's got a fancy eyepatch now! The lucky chap. :P**

 **The Grey Coincidence: Aye. XD That sums it up pretty well I think. I'm glad that you liked the way I handled Tragg, Flugg and Tilda.**

 **Waycaster: Thanks for the info! Poor One-Ear… Hopefully he'll get more screen time. :P Aye, the shrews are still alive, which is good. Hopefully Tragg doesn't lose his other eye or anything like that… I know that there are at least several ranks above a colonel in normal armies, yet Brewster is the highest ranking officer currently.**

 **Keva Strongbow: Why thank you. ^.^**

 **Highwing: Aye. Not very well at all… XD ~[quote]"all 8,273 of them."[quote]~ Lol. XD Yeah, I hope all of the many PoVs won't be too confusing for the readers. I plan to use at least a few. :P**

 **If anyone has any questions, just ask! I'll try to respond to 'em via PMs or Author Notes. I hope you all enjoy the chapter! Happy reading to you!**

000000000000000

 **EAST DUNE**

After more than a full week, the combined forces of Redwallers, Guosim, Southwarders, and hedgehogs had finally reached the western plains. The going had been slow, since Ironspear wanted to keep their journey across the dunes as concealed as possible. The mountain was finally sighted. Bat scouts were sent ahead to check for any signs of potential spies or vermin scouts as they neared closer.

The Grey Warlord allowed the army to take a brief break. He told Skipper and the other leaders that since they were nearing the mountain, he wanted everybeast to be fully rested for any battle to come.

As they were conversing, two bat scouts flew over, dropping down gratefully onto the ground in front of King Ironspear.

"We have news, news, news!"

"Go on," Ironspear said. The wildcat was wearing a light grey tunic. He -along with most of his creatures- had taken off his armor due to the sun's heat. "What have you seen?"

"Vermin beasts are attacking the mountain, mountain…," one bat replied, bowing hastily to his master. "They're crawling up the crater like ants, ants, ants."

Skipper's ears perked up. "How many?"

"Many vermin. _Thousands_ , thousands, thousands… The hares might not hold out much longer."

"Ambassador Grank, prepare the troops for battle, and tell Sellena that I wish to speak with her." The wildcat said, "We leave now! Scarnose, bring me my armor!"

"I'll get my Guosim ready!" Log-a-log declared.

"Aye," Skipper agreed, "an' I'll gather me otter crew!"

King Ironspear nodded. "Good, I'll be at the vanguard."

With that, the wildcat turned away, leaving to don his armor.

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As they marched, Ironspear had his beasts bring out a map. He marked a few things down then showed it to the other leaders.

"My bats say that there are at least five thousand vermin storming the mountain as we speak. Their camp is over here, a bit to the south," he pointed at a circle drawn on the map. "I'll send five hundred of my bats to attack the vermin camp. That way, the chance of vermin reinforcements attacking our flanks is greatly reduced. That leaves the rest of the vermin to us. Hopefully our numbers will force them to send a good portion of their troops to stop us from reaching the mountain."

"Is that a good thing, though?" Log-a-log asked, scratching his chin. "At least, about the part where we have a bunch of vermin come crashing down on us."

Ironspear shrugged. "We can always withdraw if we need, though I'd like to keep that as a last option. But it's better than having them take the mountain. Don't worry, I have a few tricks up my sleeve if the need arises."

000000000000000

 **VERMIN CAMP**

"Could you stop wiggling around," Lagworth scowled at Charlie.

"I think the knots are coming loose!" Charlie whispered excitedly. "...If I could just get it a little more."

"It's hopeless. We're never getting out."

"Shh, keep your voice down!" Charlie hissed. "My father taught me a few tricks about ropes when he took me on a voyage to the Rogue Crew's shores. Heh. I never thought they'd come in handy."

The two hares stiffened as one of the guards outside of the tent coughed, mumbling something loudly to his companion.

"Keep an eye out for the guards," Charlie said, jerking his head over to where the two vermin were. Their shadows could just barely be seen through the thin tent flap.

Charlie grunted quietly. "Aha! Got 'em."

"Great! Now untie me, wot wot," Lagworth said.

The other hare stood up slowly, but before going over to untie Lagworth, he hesitated. "You know, this is all your bally fault. Maybe I should leave you tied up."

"You wouldn't leave me here!"

"I'm half tempted to do just that. Luckily for you, I've got at least a scrap of decency in me, unlike you. I'll untie you, but from now on, you jolly-well listen to me, got that? Wot?"

"Oh, yes, yes, of course! Whatever you say!"

Scooting over, Charlie released Lagworth from his bonds. The big hare rubbed his wrists, trying to get the blood flowing back into them again.

"So what do we do now?"

Charlie glanced around. "I'm not sure."

"Maybe we should wait until nightfall to try anything. That way, it'll be dark by then, and we could slip out a lot easier. Wot wot."

"I guess… But if the vermin all left, like it sounded, then that means they're attacking the mountain."

"So?"

"What do you mean _so_? Amber, and Da, and everybeast else is in there! I want to help."

"Nothing we can bally-well do now, chap. Just sit tight and shut up. Let's not blow away our only chance at escaping, wot wot."

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Lagworth had decided to take a nap, saying that sleep would pass the time quicker.

Charlie's gut felt like somebeast was squishing it with their paw. They had loosely wrapped their bonds back over their paws, making it seem like they were still tied, in case their captors came into the tent.

Outside of the tent, the rat guards were talking.

"We sure was lucky t' get assigned here," said the bigger of the two -a grey searat with his face covered in red tattoos. "I would like t' live long enough t' enjoy the spoils of war. This battle is too big fer my likin', chances of dying too high. Hehe, let the others have the glory, I want the loot!"

His companion, another tattooed corsair rat, was doodling in the sand with the point of his dagger. "Aye, ye said it Riptung. Though, guard duty is as borin' as 'ellgates."

"At least we've got us a nice show t' watch, eh, Muckfoot?" Riptung cackled, pointing at the battle raging on the mountain.

Both of them didn't notice as several small, winged shapes flew up and landed behind the tent.

Riptung's ears twitched as he heard a quiet whooshing sound behind him. As he began to turn, a knife suddenly stabbed him in the back. As he collapsed to the ground, he saw another pair of, what appeared to be, winged mice with dark fur slicing Muckfoot's throat. Then he saw nothing.

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"What was that?" Charlie stiffened. He had heard sounds from outside the tent, muffled gasps, and other sounds that he couldn't quite pinpoint.

Suddenly, the tent flap was opened and a bat flew in, holding an odd shaped knife in its claws. Charlie scrambled back, kicking Lagworth as he did.

"Wake up!"

As Lagworth opened his eyes, all he could make out was a blurry shape that seemed to be floating toward him.

"AAAAH!" he shrieked, "Die, vermin!" His legs shot out, kicking out at the bat.

The winged creature barely managed to dodge.

"What are harebeasts doing in here, here?!" he asked, "You were supposed to be vermin, vermin, vermin."

As Lagworth jumped up to continue his attack, Charlie grabbed his shoulder, stopping him. "Wait! I think he's on our side!"

" _Our_ side?" Lagworth clenched his fist. "He attacked us!"

"I apologize, apologize." The bat hopped over toward the still-open tent flap. "We thought you were vermin. We must go. Our brigade needs to take this camp before other vermin come, come, come." With that, the bat flew out. The two hares watched him go, followed by the rest of his squad.

"What were those things? Were they bats?" Lagworth gasped. "I've heard of bats. They suck out your blood and can turn you into toads with magic!"

"Don't be a fool, Lagworth, those were just stories. I honestly doubt–"

Charlie broke off as screams and cries of alarm began to break out.

"What's going on?!" Lagworth yelled.

Charlie ran over and poked his head outside of the tent.

"It looks like the bats are attacking the vermin that are still in the camp! I told you they were allies!"

"Just because they're attacking vermin doesn't mean they're friends of ours," Lagworth scowled. "Wait a bally moment, this is perfect, actually! Time to escape while the vermin are busy!"

Before Charlie could say anything, Lagworth ran out of the tent.

Charlie went up to the corpses of the two guards, and picked up one of the rats' weapons, a sword. He picked up the other's spear and tossed it to Lagworth.

"Here, take this. You're gonna need it. Wot wot."

The hares started running east. Charlie shot a glance over his shoulder. Parts of the vermin camp were burning. Scores upon scores of bats were flying about, armed with the same curved blades as the one that had accidentally attacked Lagworth and Charlie. They battled with the vermin soldiers who had been left to guard the camp. Charlie could still hear the sounds of blades ringing.

Once they had gotten a ways away, Lagworth suddenly stopped and stood stock still, an unsure look on his face as he glanced toward the mountain, then south.

"What are you waiting for?" Charlie asked, pointing toward Salamandastron. "Let's go! Maybe we can disguise ourselves as vermin and sneak back into the mountain."

"You can," Lagworth said, glancing to the ground. "But I'm leaving."

"Leaving? Salamandastron? But it's the place where you've grown up! Why leave now? Sure we've had our disagreements, but you can't just leave!"

Lagworth shook his head, sighing. "I've never really fit in at the mountain. Besides, they wouldn't forgive me after what I've done."

"I'm sure they let you come back if you told them you were sorry."

"Oh, yes." Lagworth scoffed. "Of course. They'd tell me how 'everything is absolutely bally fine,' and all that rot. But They'd never trust me. No matter what they said, they'd never _really_ truly forgive me. And who knows, Lord Rockfur or your father might just decide that taking my head off would be easier on everybeast -and I'd rather stay in one piece." He gave a weak half-grin. "But you go ahead," he gestured with his paw. "You've always been popular with the other cadets, I'm sure you'll do fine. Wot wot. Tell them not to follow me."

"But… Where will you go?"

Lagworth shrugged. "Dunno. South, perhaps. And who knows, maybe I'll pop by someday. But I've got to leave. I know I haven't always been the easiest hare to get along with, and that's been my own fault. I wish now things could have been different. I won't bother asking for your forgiveness or any good word on my behalf, but believe me when I say, I am truly sorry for getting us into all this."

Charlie could hear the sincerity behind his words, and as much as he had disliked Lagworth in the past, he couldn't help but feel sorry for him. Knowing that this was goodbye, Charlie nodded. "I wish you luck, Lagworth."

Their gazes met and Lagworth returned the gesture. With that, he hefted his spear and began to walk south, his lanky form disappearing from Charlie's gaze.

00000000000000

 **SOUTH SHORE**

The _Smasher_ continued to batter against the mountain's gates.

A corsair ferret came running up to the Blue-Eyes, panting.

"Sir! Sir!"

"What is it? What's wrong? Did Baro's plan to kill the badger fail?"

The ferret shook his head. "A woodlander army has been spotted marching our way!"

The weasel's eyes widened with shock. "How could this happen?! How many? From where?"

"They're coming marching across the east dunes." The ferret pointed behind him. "Fifteen hundred at the least! You can see them from here!"

Blue-Eyes snapped out orders for another beast to overview the attack on the gates. Escorted by his personal guards, he began to run east.

"Find Baro! Tell the other captains to marshal a force and form ranks to the east. The rest of the horde must keep attacking! We can't lose the advantage now."

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 **CRATER TOP**

Baro was watching his vermin as they continued their attack. The wolverine was debating joining them, until he saw Bertvar coming back down the mountain slope. His left shoulder was bleeding, and the wolf was covered with small wounds and cuts.

"Those hares are brutal fighters," the wolf said to Baro, "They're making us pay for every inch we take. Their reputation of being perilous is well earned."

"But their ferocity won't be enough to save them. I always get what I want in the end. No beast has ever stood in my way before, or ever will, once Salamandastron is made my citadel."

"Oh, of course." His words had the faintest hint of sarcasm.

Baro narrowed his eyes at the wolf's smug smile. The wolverine emperor decided it would be wise to get rid of the slavemaster once the mountain was taken, in a subtle way, of course. Maybe he would personally drink a toast to their victory and slip a bottle or two of poison into the wolf's cup, or simply have his soldiers kill him during the night. Baro had dealt with wolves before. He had no qualms doing it again.

He was interrupted from his thoughts by Bertvar.

"By the bloody fangs of Vulpez!" The wolf's eyes were wide as he looked down at the eastern dunes. "Looks like we've got company."

Baro gasped, his jaw dropping as he caught sight of the woodlander forces. "Where in Hellgates did they spring up from?"

"Look!" Bertvar pointed with his paw to where Blue-Eyes was marshalling vermin companies on the bottom of the mountain slope.

The wolverine chewed his bottom lip, an unsure frown on his face. Coming to a decision, he hefted his mace and chain. "Let the others take the crater, we'll both take our troops and go down the slope. We won't be able to fight a battle on two fronts for long. We need to drive those woodlanders back."

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 **EAST SLOPE**

More than a third of the vermin army continued their attack on the mountain. The rest made a shield and pike wall in the trenches by the mountain's base, facing the approaching army.

Tharko swung his axe a few times in the air. The familiar feel of the weapon was comforting to him. Arching his neck, he glanced to his left. Kirk was walking beside, his broadsword held in his paws. The black fox's eyes were hooded as he gazed out at the vermin before them.

"Nervous, eh?" he asked Sebias.

The Redwall otter was to Tharko's right. He gulped visibly, clinging to his javelin, and Tharko could see that his paws were damp with sweat.

Sebias glanced toward him. "Hmm, what? Oh. Uh, yeah," he said. "Don't worry 'bout me though. I'm sure I'll feel better when we're actually fighting."

Tharko chuckled. "This is your first battle, isn't it? Well, every warrior has always had one o' those. That's how a beast gets to be experienced." He clapped him on the shoulder, "Me 'n' Kirk will take care of ye, mate."

The Redwaller bobbed his head in a nod, remaining silent.

A hamster officer came running down the line, calling out to the marching beasts.

"Draw your weapons and prepare yourselves! We're going to meet them head on when we get the signal!"

Out of the corner of his eye, Tharko saw Sebias stiffen.

"Guess this is it then," Sebias said. "I… I wish Sam and Gerardo were here. I would've liked to tell them a last goodbye."

The woodlanders halted just out of arrow range. The Grey Warlord took a few steps forward. Ironspear was once again dressed in his heavy armor. Though this time, he carried a square shield in one paw, his spear held in the other.

He looked up into the sky then suddenly let out a loud, indecipherable shout, while swinging his great spear in the air. The five hundred bats that hadn't been deployed to attack the vermin camp suddenly flew into the air above him. The bats carried rocks and chunks of spiked iron in their claws.

When the wildcat signaled once again with his spear, the bats let out shrill screeches and swarmed forward toward the vermin lines.

"Bring them down!" Blue-Eyes yelled to the stunned vermin archers. "Shoot them!"

Notching their arrows, the archers loosed a salvo of arrows, managing to bring down a few of the small, flying creatures. The bats dropped their cargo on the tightly packed ranks of beasts. Dropped from such a height, the hard objects did severe damage.

While the vermin were focused on the bats, a company of hamster archers –who were armed with massive longbows– went forward a few paces and released a storm of arrows on the vermin, taking care not to aim too high or too close to the bats, then scrambled back to the safety of the woodlander lines – where a rank of hamsters bearing shields covered them, in case the vermin tried to retort.

Ironspear turned back to the combined army of woodlanders and their allies.

"My friends, the hour of reckoning has drawn near. It is this moment that we must find our true mettle. If we fail, many innocent creatures will die. It's our duty to scourge the land of these barbaric invaders! Together, we shall claim victory!"

"Victory!" The cry echoed back, faintly at first, but growing with momentum like a mighty tide. "Victory!"

Suddenly, there were the sounds of horns blowing, deep and solemn, across the dunes, causing a rippling tension through the ranks, and the army surged forward toward the waiting vermin lines.


	62. Chapter 61

**Author Note:**

 **Hmm… I think I might forgo the review replies for last chapter, if that's all right with you all. I don't think any of you really asked any questions, and there's nothing I can really say without giving spoilers. XD But, of course, if there is anything I missed, and you'd like me to respond to it then just PM me.**

 **Happy reading to you all!**

000000000000000

 **CRATER**

Colonel Brewster had a medic briefly bandage his shoulder before returning to direct the fighting. The top of the mountain was packed with moving beasts fighting for their lives.

The hare blinked. Was he just imagining it, or did it seem like some of the vermin were actually withdrawing? The hare charged over to the crater edge, where he risked a few moments to glance down at the shore.

"By my great-grandmother's whiskers!" Brewster gasped. "There's a whole bloody battle going on down there!" The hare ducked his head as an arrow shaft nicked his ear.

"What was that, Sah?" Eric asked. He and Private Snowpetal were like Brewster's twin shadows, acting as his bodyguards since he was now the highest in the Long Patrol's chain of command.

"Help has come!" Brewster pointed down at the shore. "Hundreds of the bally chaps! Look! See for yourself!"

"I say! You're right!" Snowpetal jerked her spear from a vermin corpse and pushed the dead body back over the crater. "I see a few woodlanders down there, but what are those golden furred beasts?"

"I dunno," Eric replied, "But as long as they're helping, I don't give a fig what species they are!"

"Come on! Let's show those vermin what true warriors can do!" Brewster began to wave his weapon in the air. "Eulalia!"

000000000000000

 **EAST SLOPE**

Blue-Eyes plunged his long rapier through a hamster's neck.

Withdrawing it, he skillfully flicked a different hedgehog's club away as the woodlander tried to bash the weasel's head in. Blue-Eyes took a step back, and let one of his corsairs take care of the hedgehog. The weasel was no coward, but he also wasn't a fool. Battles are unpredictable, and no matter how skilled a beast is, death only needs the slightest amount of ill luck to embrace its newest victims. And Blue-Eyes didn't plan on dying any time soon.

He glanced around him. _We're losing too many beasts. Even if we defeat these woodlanders, we might not have enough to take the mountain._ However, Blue-Eyes had not remained Bloodfur's chief advisor -as well as one of the most powerful beasts on Terramort- by succumbing fear.

Keeping his cool, he backed off from the fighting and ordered his corsairs to follow him, leaving the Snowlanders to keep the woodlanders at bay.

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Sebias had read many books and recordings about battles. However, the writers and recorders of old could never prepare the young otter for the harsh truth of real war. There was no glory in battle. The entire world was turned into a living nightmare, with creatures roaring as they hacked at their opponent's flesh. The very air reeked with the smell of blood and dead bodies.

A hamster in front of the young otter fell to the ground as a spear took him in the chest. Sebias dropped to his knees at the hamster's side.

"A-are you okay? Just hang on! I'll get some help…" His voice trailed off when he saw that the creature was dead. Sebias felt a paw grasp his shoulder.

"Come on, mate!" Kirk said, "On your footpaws, lest you want to join him."

Tharko and Kirk stuck by the Redwall otter like they had promised. The black fox and the scarred otter cut a swath through the surrounding vermin. Sebias managed to maim and defeat a few opponents of his own, but for the most part, he was just trying to stay alive.

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Furgly the slaver fox backed away as a broad shouldered hamster swung at him with his axe. The weapon slashed his upper leg, and Furgly tripped, falling to the ground.

"Mercy, sir!" Furgly cried, dropping his sword and holding both his paws over his head. "Don't kill me!"

The hamster hesitated for a moment, slowly lowering his axe. The few moments were all that Furgly needed. Pulling out a knife from his tunic, he jumped up and body slammed into the hamster, plunging his weapon into the surprised creature's chest.

Furgly looked around him. The fighting on this section of the mountain slope wasn't as thick as the rest. Seeing Grunner and Barktail fighting side by side a little ways from him, the fox scrambled over to his fellow slavers. Furgly's upper leg was bloody from a deep cut, causing the fox to limp heavily as he moved.

As Furgly neared them both, Grunner swung around toward him, spear raised to strike.

"It's me!" the fox said. "It's Furgly! Don't leave me here alone!"

A look of recognition lit the weasel's face. "Get out of my way."

Grunner turned away to fight a woodlander while Barktail dragged the wounded fox over and stood beside him, he ripped off a piece from Furgly's coat and handed it to him. "Here, bind your wound with that," the weasel said, blocking a thrust from a hamster's spear.

A vermin counterattack slowly pushed the woodlanders' line back enough to give Grunner, Barktail, and Furgly a brief pause as the brunt of the fighting moved past them.

"Find me a healer!" Furgly reached out a paw beseechingly. "My leg is losing too much blood!"

"Barktail, go fetch our poor mate a healer. Quick!" As his fellow weasel ran off, Grunner bent down and patted Furgly on the shoulder, saying in a sympathetic voice, "Don't worry. Just lay back and rest."

"Thanks, matey." Furgly groaned as he brushed his injured leg on a rock. "I won't forget this."

Grunner's fangs twisted into a grin. "Oh, of course." He leaned down closer. "But, er, Furgly, I'm afraid I have t' tell ya something…"

The weasel's hidden knife was suddenly in his paw, and he thrusted it into the fox's stomach. Smoldering the fox's screams with his paws, Grunner held him down until, giving one final jerk, the fox lay still.

"…Bertvar can only 'ave _one_ second in command."

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Kirk's broadsword sliced off an ermine's arm. Kicking the wounded creature's legs from under him, the black fox finished the Snowlander off with a quick stab.

A bloodcurdling howl suddenly echoed through the sounds of the fighting, and Kirk turned to see the largest creature he'd ever encountered.

Bertvar's scimitar was entirely red, dripping with blood. His eyes were alight with battle fury, and his fangs were drawn up in a snarl. He swatted a nearby hamster to the ground with his mailed arm then cleaved his massive blade into an otter, chopping deep into the unfortunate creature's head.

"Kirk!" Tharko yelled, wiping the muck and sweat from his forehead with his free paw. The scarred otter pointed to the wolf with his axe. "Let's bring him down!"

"Aye!"

Tharko picked up a discarded weapon and hurled it at Betvar, nicking the wolf's shoulder.

Bertvar snarled, saliva dripping from his fangs, and leapt forward at Tharko.

Kirk ran up and attacked the slavemaster with his broadsword.

Bertvar's blows numbed Kirk's sword paw, yet his blade continued to flicker and twist with the smoothness of a viper. The sparring lessons that had been drilled into the young fox were bearing fruit.

Tharko's axe joined in briefly, but then the otter was forced to turn his attention elsewhere as several vermin rushed in to help Bertvar.

Kirk took a step back, grunting as he blocked one of Bertvar's swings. His left footpaw caught on a dead vermin's body and Kirk fell over backwards with a cry. He tried to keep using his sword from where he lay, barely able to defend himself as Bertvar kept coming. The wolf smacked the weapon out of Kirk's paw then grabbed the fox by the throat, pushing him to the ground.

"Burn in Dark Forest, fox. Tell Vulpuz I sent you."

The wolf suddenly howled in pain and reared back as his leg was nicked by Tharko's axe blade. He whirled around and saw Tharko standing behind him, his bloodied axe held in his paw.

Kirk inhaled sharply, rolling over and coughing.

"Fight me, coward!" Tharko challenged Bertvar.

"You lowly scum," the wolf growled with a smug grin. "As you wish."

Tharko raised his axe when the otter suddenly froze. Tharko's eyes looked blankly ahead, a spear impaled in his back.

Kirk stared with horrified eyes as Grunner the weasel yanked his spear back out with a smirk as the otter dropped his axe and collapsed to the ground.

The world seemed to sway before Kirk. "No. No. _No_!"

Grunner barely had time to look up as the black fox charged him. Cleaving the weasel's spear in two, Kirk sliced Grunner's head off with one swing.

Kirk turned just in time to see Bertvar coming at him, swinging his blade. He ducked as the slaver's scimitar slashed through the empty air where the fox's neck had been.

Darting forward, Kirk cut the wolf deeply in his upper arm. Bertvar's paw swung out and smashed Kirk in the side of his face.

The black fox fell, blinking rapidly as he tried to clear his vision. He could barely make out Bertvar towering over him, his sword drawn back for a final blow. Kirk knew that everything would soon be over.

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Tharko grimaced with pain. The spear had snapped with half of it still lodged in his back when he fell. He jerked as a fresh spasm of pain threatened to make him black out.

… _Kirk?_

He saw his friend lying on the ground helplessly, the wolf slaver readying to kill the black fox.

With every last ounce of strength, Tharko picked his axe and used both paws to hurl it at Bertvar's back. The weapon struck true, striking the wolf square in between the shoulder blades, right on his spine.

The wolf grunted sharply and he slowly twisted to the side and dropped. Bertvar gasped, then gave a last mighty shudder and fell still.

"Tharko!"

Kirk crawled back onto his footpaws, picking up his fallen sword and ran over to his friend's side. The bleeding otter coughed weakly, wincing at the pain the small action caused.

"It'll be okay!" Kirk said, "Don't worry, I'll get you to a healer."

"My… My time is up, mate." Tharko's breathing was labored. "Healers won't do me any good."

Kirk put his head in his paws. "Don't leave me. Please." He began to sob. "You can't die. Not now. Not after everything we've been through. This is all my fault!"

"No." Tharko groaned. "Don't…blame yourself. Don't worry, I'll be in a peaceful place. I hope that...I'll be worthy."

Seeing that his friend was fading, Kirk grasped his paw. "Of course you are!" He sniffed. "No beast could be more worthy!"

The scarred otter smiled slightly. He attempted to say something, but then his chest started heaving, and his coughing drowned out whatever it was he was trying to say. With a final cough, the otter's head dropped back, his eyes gazing unseeing into the open sky.

Bowing his head, Kirk wept.

000000000000000

 **NORTH SLOPE**

Blue-Eyes was in the left flank when the vermin under his command suddenly began to panic, shouting as they ran past him.

The weasel grabbed one by the shoulders. "Where are you going? Get back in line."

The soldier's breathing was shaky as he pointed behind him. "Another force o' those blasted woodlanders are comin'! Hundreds of moles 'n' another o' those demon badgers!"

Wiggling out of Blue-Eyes' grasp, the vermin scurried off.

The weasel saw an armored badger fighting his way through the vermin, his sword red with blood and his eyes burning with a cold flame. Instead of bellowing out with war cries, Lord Nightwrath was silent, grimly focused on killing his opponents.

Blue-Eyes had heard tales of a badger lord who dwelt in the Black Mountains. He and his warrior moles had apparently carved out a fierce reputation for themselves in the Northlands.

He looked around at the approaching woodlanders and the mass amount of vermin corpses covering the slope. "Where is Baro?!" the weasel shouted.

000000000000000

Rosebud notched an arrow and released it into the vermin ranks. Elmblade was with her, also armed with a bow. They were part of the company that Axburr had assembled, comprising of archers and slingers. Keeping out of reach from the main battle, they rained missiles down on the enemy.

Rones and the hedgehog Dunagan were fighting side by side in the front ranks. The former hedgehog slave, armed with a spiked club, bellowed furiously as he killed and maimed vermin.

Her paws sweating, Rosebud reached for another arrow. _Smooth and relaxed,_ she thought, _Just like Da always said._ She knew that Broge was watching her from Dark Forest. She closed her eyes and put the arrow on the bowstring. _I'll make you proud, Father._

000000000000000

"Eulaliaaa!"

The battle cry echoed from hundreds of throats as the defenders inside the mountain charged over the crater and down the slope. Crashing into the surprised vermin, they pushed them back.

Tragg lost sight of Flugg and Tilda in the melee.

A large rat, bearing a vicious looking hook on his arm, swung out at Tragg with his cutlass. The one eyed shrew yelped as he leapt backward to avoid the blow. He gasped, staring at the vermin.

"Ye- Ye were there." Time seemed to slow as the memories came flashing back to Tragg. Of that dark night when he had lost Broge and his clan. "Ye were one o' th' rats who attacked our home!"

Captain Hookarm snorted, swinging again with his cutlass. "I don't even know who you are, shrew. Die!"

Tragg brought his shield up. "Ye… Ye don't even remember them, do ye?!" His teared gaze was filled with a blinding fury. "Ye murdering scum!"

The large rat was forced to retreat a few paces as the shrew lunged forward. Taking advantage of a particularly wild swing, Hookarm disarmed Tragg.

The young shrew glanced down at his empty paw, his mind racing. Without warning, he leapt forward, holding his shield in both paws, and hit the rat full on. Hookarm fell over backwards, his arms flailing.

Before the corsair could react, Tragg once again brought up his shield and smashed it onto the rat's head. Tragg grabbed the stunned rat's left arm, and used it to drive Hookarm's own spiked arm hook into the rodent's chest.

Coughing, the rat twitched then fell still. The Northtrekker clan had been avenged.

000000000000000

A loud roar broke through the surrounding clamor of the battle as Baro Steelclaws met King Ironspear. The wildcat smashed into the wolverine. Baro snarled, taking a step back and swinging his mace and chain.

Ironspear blocked the blow with his shield, then thrusted with his weapon at the wolverine's exposed body, cutting through a strip of flesh on his arm.

"Surrender," the wildcat said, "Surrender and your life will be spared!"

Baro hesitated. His arms were weary from swinging his heavy weapon. The battle had taken its toll on him. Yet he couldn't surrender, not now. He'd made it too far to fail with victory just out of reach. Even if he did, he could never hope to regain the respect and fear from his soldiers. It would be settled here. Baro growled. Grabbing a nearby vermin, he hurled the unfortunate beast at Ironspear.

As the wildcat sidestepped the flying body, the wolverine stampeded forward, screaming his battle cry.

Ironspear reacted with the speed and nimbleness blessed to his species. Darting to the side, he used his shield to smash the wolverine's arm, then thrusted with his spear as hard as he could.

The wolverine gasped, looking down disbelievingly at the weapon that had impaled his chest. He fell slowly, dropping in a heap on the ground.


	63. Chapter 62

**Author Note:**

 **MAXX: Thank you! I'm really glad you like my work so far! I hope that you enjoy these next updates. :D**

 **AvengeThem: Concerning Hookarm, yeah. I think this is the problem that arises when a fic has 100+ named characters. :P**

 **Waycaster: Baro didn't recognize Ironspear because –*Coughs*– I may have, er, edited Ironspear out of their earlier meeting. I would've done it a lot longer ago, but it had slipped my mind, and when I had first started writing, I wasn't sure how to edit chapters on FFN. Ironspear being there just didn't… really make any sense, so I changed it.**

 **The Grey Coincidence: Honestly, I had been debating on whether or not to kill Bertvar for the few weeks leading up to the last update. I had planned to kill him all along, I think, but after I wrote** _ **The Feast**_ **… I dunno. Killing him was definitely sad on my part.**

 **Highwing: I agree. Expanding the battle chapters wouldn't have hurt. Though, the reason that the battle itself was sorta on the shorter-ish side was because I originally feared that it was going to be** _ **way**_ **too long, at first. :P I might go back and add certain segments later, though, to help it flow better and to add tension, as you pointed out.**

 **Corkindrill: It might be a while before you read this, but thank you for taking time to read my work. I appreciate it. If you have any questions or anything, I'll respond via PMs.**

000000000000000

 **EAST SLOPE**

Sanjur the vixen was in command of the Snowlander forces on the top part of the mountain slope. She was trying to rally a platoon of troops to form defensive ranks facing the crater, where the Long Patrol and their allies were beating their way through the vermin. Blue-Eyes joined her, accompanied by a group of his guards.

"We're being attacked from three sides," Blue-Eyes wiped his rapier. "And the wolf mercenary is slain. Where is Baro? We need him."

A fox came running up to the pair of vermin commanders. "Baro is dead!" the terrified fox cried, "The emperor's been killed!"

Sanjur's jaw dropped open. "What? Nobeast could kill Baro!"

"It's true! I saw his corpse myself! A wildcat killed him!"

The fear was spreading through the surrounding verin just as fast as the fox's news. Sanjur held up her paws in the air.

"Stay where you are!" Sanjur barked out. "Or I'll have your guts impaled on pikes! Since I was the emperor's right paw beast, I am taking control until we return home. We can still beat them, lads! Together!"

"Speak for yourself." Blue-Eyes sniffed, shouldering the vixen out of his way. "Continue fighting if you must. I'm sure you'll be rewarded with glorious deaths. I'll not be a part of this bloodbath any longer."

Sanjur grabbed the weasel's arm with her paw. "You can't leave now!"

Blue-Eyes spun around, his rapier point touching her throat. "Don't you dare touch me, filth. I'm through with you Snowlander barbarians."

The vixen froze. She was considering the odds and found that they weren't in her favor. Blue-Eyes' guards outnumbered the nearby Snowlanders, and she wasn't even sure if they'd fight for her. She decided to try another tactic. "Your king ordered for you to help us take the mountain! What will he say if you leave now?"

Blue-Eyes scoffed, lowering his rapier. "That's for me to worry about. If I were you, I would concern yourself with your own problems. If you wish to take your fallen leader's place, I'd suggest you scramble to save whatever you can from this mess."

And with that, the weasel spun around and left, taking his corsairs with him, and leaving a very confused vixen in his trail.

"Now what do we do?" a grey rat asked, wringing his paws.

"I say we take the weasel's advice!" one of the ferrets -a captain who went by the name of Rippaw- said, brandishing his weapon. Sanjur wasn't necessarily promoted because of popularity with the rank and file. Captain Rippaw had been waiting for his chance to rise in the ranks. "Who is with me?"

The surrounding vermin bobbed their heads up and down and shouted out cries of agreement.

"Captain Rippaw, order the retreat. Tell everybeast to board the ships," Sanjur snapped, taking command of the situation. The vixen and the ferret both held each other's gaze for a brief moment, until Sanjur took a step forward. "I said _move_."

Rippaw scowled, but nodded his head respectfully. The ferret captain would bide his time. He ran through the throng of creatures until he came up to a small rodent carrying a horn around his neck.

"Ye heard her!" Rippaw said, "Sound the retreat!"

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Sebias, who was now officially separated from everybeast he knew, was fighting desperately against a pair of vermin – a fox and a weasel. The weasel was armed with a poleaxe, and the fox with a broadsword. Darting back and forth like snakes, they drove the otter back. Sebias was covered with cuts and slashes from their weapons.

The weasel armed with the poleaxe stumbled and Sebias seized his chance, stabbing the weasel in his brief moment of distraction. The weasel fell to the ground.

The other vermin snarled and swung his broadsword. The blow cutting right through Sebias' javelin, splitting it in two.

The fox grinned and took a step closer toward Sebias.

The otter began to scramble back, his chest pounding with fear.

Out of nowhere, a shield came flying, striking the vermin on the side of his head. The fox stumbled back a few paces from the blow.

"Northtrekkers!"

A one eyed shrew charged at the fox, ramming into him. Before the Snowlander could recover, the shrew's rapier sliced through his lower stomach, and he pushed the slain beast aside.

"Th-thanks," Sebias stammered.

The smaller creature nodded his head grimly, picking up a dead weasel's discarded poleaxe and throwing it to Sebias, who caught it.

Side by side, the two creatures battled, until the vermin ranks before them suddenly began to break slowly and withdraw, like a mighty tide pulling back into the depths of the sea. The combined forces of the woodlanders and their allies surged after them.

Sebias collapsed to his knees, breathing deeply. He glanced down at his body. His fur slimy from muck and sweat. Blood –both his own and others'– covered his body.

The shrew stabbed his rapier point first into the ground and stared up into the sky.

"You saved my life." The otter held out his blood stained paw to the shrew. "I'm Sebias."

The shrew turned to Sebias and clasped the otter's larger paw.

"Call me Tragg." The shrew smiled. "Dinnae mention it. Ye fought bravely." Tragg glanced around them. "I need tae find my friends. Care tae join me, mate?"

Sebias stood up and looked down at the shrew. "Aye, matey." He hefted his poleaxe. "Let's go."

000000000000000

Brewster pulled his sword from a dead vermin and stepped back behind Private Eric and Snowpetal. He winced as he touched his shoulder wound. He turned to see a young cadet stumbling her way over to him. The colonel blinked, recognizing the creature. "Amber, my gal," Brewster gasped, "Are you all right?!"

Amber was trembling, clutching her side. The colonel could see blood staining her tunic from a wound. "I– I dunno, sah! One of the vermin cads got me. But I got that scum back!"

Giving the wound a brief inspection, he shook his head. "It'll leave a scar, but it's luckily just a graze. Stick close to me, wot!"

"Don't worry, Sah!" The female cadet clutched her javelin grimly. "I'll keep you safe! You look like you got a nasty wound yourself." She indicated his shoulder.

Brewster smiled inwardly at her words. _Cheeky little blighter. Thinking that_ I'm _the one who needs help._

"They're withdrawing!" Private Snowpetal yelled, waving her weapon in the air. "We've got 'em beat!"

Brewster saw that she was right. The mighty horde was retreating. The vermin commanders tried their best to instill discipline in their troops, but they couldn't keep them from finally breaking ranks and scattering, each of them eager to be the first on the ships docked by the beach.

After for what seemed like seasons, Brewster's heart felt light. He let out a weary sigh then turned to the troops under his command. "We're not done yet!" He yelled, "Not until we drive this filth completely off our shores! Eulalia!"

The woodlanders stampeded forward across the littered field, screaming battle cries.

A seasoned company of vermin archers were covering their comrades' retreat. At their officer's word, they pulled back their bows strings and aimed at the oncoming woodlanders.

"Shield wall!" a Rogue Crew otter cried.

"Watch out, chaps!"

Some of the creatures armed with shields stopped and raised them, those that didn't either dropped to the ground or continued charging. Brewster tackled Amber, covering her with his body.

"Oof!"

"Stay down, young un, stay–" Brewster gasped as two arrows plunged into his back. The hare coughed, closing his eyes tightly.

"Sah! No!" Amber crawled out from underneath him. "Help! Somebeast!"

As the woodlanders continued their charge, the vermin archers loosed one more scattered volley then turned tail and ran.

Snowpetal heard Amber's desperate shouts and ran over to her.

"He's been shot!" The young cadet cried. "Help me carry him!"

 _Why… Why does she sound so far away?_ Brewster thought as the two Long Patrollers began to lift him up. _Boy, I feel so sleepy. Maybe if I just take a few minutes to rest my eyes…_

Feeling like he was slipping into a welcoming pool of dark water, the hare closed his eyes.

000000000000000

The allied forces under Ironspear's command – along with Nightwrath's moles and the mountain's defenders – drove the Snowlanders and the corsairs to their ships.

A small group of Long Patrollers went to help the wounded that were still lying on the battlefield. One of them, -an old, grizzled veteren- went over to where he had seen Lord Rockfur fall down the slope, hoping that he and his fellow Long Patrollers would be able to give their lord a proper burial. After a good deal of searching, he found the body. A slight movement caught his eye, and the hare suddenly gasped, checking the badger lord's pulse.

"Lord Rockfur's alive! He's breathing, chaps!"

Though his armor was battered and rent, there was still life coursing through the unconscious badger's veins.

Using a hastily-built stretcher, Rockfur's loyal subjects carried him to the mountain's infirmary.

000000000000000

King Ironspear planted the tip of his great spear into the ground with a strong thrust. The wildcat warlord stared out at the fleeing vermin ships. He debated sending his bats after them, to harass their opponents to the bitter end, but he shrugged it off. They had won. No further lives needed to be lost.

Lord Nightwrath walked up beside him, sliding his broadsword into his sheath.

"My bats told me that they saw you and your moles attack courageously against the enemy," Ironspear said, staring out at the retreating vermin ships. "You really helped turn the tide. You have my respect, for what it is worth."

"I thank you." Nightwrath bowed. "Sorry, but I don't believe we have met."

"No. No we haven't." The Grey Warlord made a sweeping bow. "Ironspear of Southsward. And you are Nightwrath of the Black Mountains, I presume?"

"You presume correctly. How did you know?"

The wildcat's perfectly white teeth grinned. "You could say that I have my ways. I know many beasts across the lands. They tell me a tale or two. After all, you have quite the reputation, do you not?"

"Aye. One that most likely isn't that flattering, depending on who you've spoked to." Nightwrath chuckled. "Ah, well. Such is life."

They stood in silence for a few moments, staring out at the sea.

A hare –his fur night black, with the exception of his ears, which were white– strode up to them.

"I'm Major Phillip of the Long Patrol." The hare bowed slightly. "I'd like to thank you both for your surprising arrival. Your presence saved us in the bally nick of time, wot wot." He turned to Ironspear. "Is it true that you killed the wolverine? Some of the hamster chaps of yours told me you did. Pretty bloody impressive. Wot wot."

"I did what I had to do. I take no pride in it. Death is a horrible thing."

"Yes, well, I think the world is pretty bally-well better off without that dirty vermi– …Er, the scum that he was. Wot." Major Phillip twitched his ears, trying to cover up his poor choice of words. "I'm sure I speak for the rest of the mountain when I say that you and your armies are welcome into Salamandastron."

"Thank you," Nightwrath rumbled.

The Grey Warlord smiled, nodding his head. "It would be an honor."

0000000000000000

The land reeked with the scent of hundreds and hundreds of dead carcasses as Charlie walked through the battlefield. The young hare covered his mouth and nose with his paw, trying to block out the scent of death. He continued to stumble his way toward the mountain.

There were a few small groups of woodlanders and other creatures that Charlie had never seen also wandering the field, searching the slain for any signs of friends or loved ones.

He finally arrived at Salamandastron's entrance. A great battering ram stood just a ways from the gates, left abandoned on the bloodstained sand. The heavy doors of the mountain were slightly pushed ajar enough so that beasts could walk through.

Going inside, the hare ran over to a group of Long Patrollers. Before he could so much as say a word however, a young female cadet caught sight of him.

"Charlie? Is… Is that you? Charlie!"

The wind was driven out of the young cadet as Amber tackled him, wrapping him in a hug.

"Fates! We were so worried! We thought you might've died! How did you get away from the vermin? Where's Lagworth?"

"Hey, hey," Charlie said, smiling. "I'll explain everything in a bit. You won't believe everything that happened!" His eyes caught sight of the white bandage on Amber's side, and he gasped. "You're wounded!"

She looked down at her wound and sniffed, waving a paw dismissively. "I'll be alright. It was only a graze. It would have been worse thanks to your father…" Her voice trailed off uncertainly.

"Where is father? Is he all right?"

Amber's gaze instantly filled with sadness, and the very pit of Charlie's stomach went cold.

"Amber! Where's Da?!"

"He's still alive, but barely. The healers say he won't last the night. He saved me. I'm…I'm so sorry. I'll take you to him."

Charlie felt like he was in a daze as she led him to the mountain's infirmary. Entering one of the rooms, Amber led him to one of the beds in the far corner. The hare medics had done all they could to help him, but they were forced to let fate decide the final outcome. They left the arrows in his chest, fearing to move them lest they made it worse.

Sergeant One-Ear was sitting on a nearby bed, his wooden crutches leaning against his bed as he stood watch over Colonel Brewster. He looked up and saw his daughter and Charlie approaching.

"How is he doing?" Charlie stammered.

"He's been fading in and out of consciousness," Sergeant One-Ear said. "Every now and then he'll mumble something." The hare veteran brushed a paw across his eyes. "I don't think he has long."

Amber sat down next to One-Ear, and the hare wrapped his arm around his daughter's shoulders.

Charlie knelt beside Brewster, clutching his father's paw. Colonel Brewster's eyes flickered open slowly.

"Charlie?" He squinted his eyes. His voice was painfully weak. "Charlie, is that really you?"

"It's me, father." Charlie squeezed the wounded colonel's paw. "I'm here."

"I don't have much time left… I'm sorry. I should have been a better father. I failed Chloe and I failed you."

"No! How can you say that? You're the best dad any beast could have ever asked for."

Brewster shook his head slowly. "Your mother would be so proud of you. Almost as much as I am." He leaned over as he coughed again, spitting out blood onto his uniform and the bed sheets.

Amber instantly grabbed a cloth and began wiping up the mess.

"Take care of him, Amber." He sniffed, his nose twitching as his eyes started to close. Brewster's chest began to heave and he grasped Charlie's arm. "Charlie."

"I'm here, Da! I'm here!"

Brewster's breathing continued to increase rapidly and then, with a last shuddering sigh, stopped. The old hare was finally at rest.


	64. Chapter 63

**Author Note:**

 **Shellycat: Why, hello there! I hope you continue to enjoy the story. That is a good question, actually. Very sadly, no, Brewster didn't know that Rockfur was still alive. :'(**

 **CasterWay: Lol. Joseph Joestar has got some pretty sound advice there. ^.^ Lol, I do love my dramatic entrances on the battlefield, don't I?... :P I** _ **did**_ **want to give Brewster's death justice, so I'm glad you seem to have liked it.**

 **Keva Strongbow: Er… I'm sure that the person had their reasons for killing Brewster. I'm not** _ **that**_ **cruel with my characters… am I? ;D**

 **Highwing: Heh. Honestly, poor Sanjur would have most likely gotten even less screen time than she has now, if it wasn't that you mentioned how much you had liked her character earlier on. :P**

 **AvengeThem: Funny story, but I actually did introduce Sanjur before… I can't remember the chapter off the top of my head, but she talked with King Bloodfur briefly, before the alliance between the Snowlanders and the corsairs was made. But yeah, it's hard to keep track sometimes. :P**

 **The Grey Coincidence: ^.^ Yeah… I'll try to warn y'all in the future if I change anything. I had originally planned on** _ **not**_ **editing Ironspear out until after I finished TGW, but, er… y'all would probably be curious why Baro wouldn't recognize him, and all that.**

000000000000000

 **SALAMANDASTRON**

The allied armies were slowly beginning to file into the mountain, while some of Ironspear's forces threw up tents and built a temporary camp. After searching through the dead bodies and the carnage of battleground for their friends, Tragg and Sebias went into the mountain to see if they could find them there.

They were passing through a corridor filled with warriors when a familiar, brawny otter came running up and practically crushed Sebias' ribs in a hug.

"Sebias! For Fate's sake, I couldn't find y' anywhere!"

The smaller otter tried to reply, but all he could manage was a grunt as the air was squeezed out of his lungs. Skipper finally let him go and stepped back. Tragg had to stifle a laugh as Sebias doubled over, trying to catch his breath.

"Thanks, Skipper. I missed you too." The two pounded each other on the back. "Where are the others?"

The otter chieftain's grin faded as he scratched his head. "I'm not sure where Kirk or Tharko are, but th' crew is gathered in th' Mess Hall. I'll keep lookin' fer 'em. Ye go down an' grab a bite to eat." Clapping Sebias on the shoulder, Skipper turned and left.

"So… That was your father?" Tragg asked, rubbing the back of his neck with his paw.

"Well, not exactly. I never knew my parents. Skipper took me under his wing, so to speak, when I first arrived at Redwall as an orphan. He's the closest thing I have to a real father."

Tragg's jaw dropped open. "Ye mean ye're from Redwall Abbey? I've heard about that place! What's it like? Are the legends about it real? Are the bells made of solid gold? Does the food really taste as good as they say?"

"Yes, no, and yes again." Sebias smiled. "The food is breathtakingly amazing, as are the other creatures that live there. We have orchards, a pond, lawns where we take picnics in, and all sorts of stuff!"

"How big is it? Is it as big as this mountain?"

"Er… No. Not even close, actually."

"Would you mind tellin' me some more later? I still need tae find my friends. I 'ave tae make sure that they're all right. Maybe I'll come wit' ye tae the Mess Hall. They might be there."

"Aye." Sebias nodded. "Er, do you know the way?"

"Ach. I think so."

The shrew's memory served him well, and before long, they had reached the Mess Hall. It was crowded with beasts of all shapes and sizes. All the packed bodies made it hard to walk. Somebeast accidentally nudged Tragg, and the shrew tripped over somebeast's tail, then bumped into a female otter.

"Oof! Sorry. My bad."

The otter, Keva, smiled. "It's alright, matey." She looked like she was about to walk on when she caught sight of Sebias. She peered closer at him. "Are you from one of the northern clans?" she asked.

"Er, no. I'm from Redwall." Sebias gestured down to his torn and tattered green tunic.

"Oh. Um…" She glanced around them, tip toeing on her paws to see over the other beasts' heads. "Have either of you seen Chief Askarr? Tall fellow. Big arms, booming laugh, carries a huge axe? You couldn't miss him if you saw him."

"I dinnae think so." Tragg shrugged. "Sorry. We're looking for our friends, as well."

"Okay. Thanks anyway. I wish you luck." With that, Keva disappeared into the crowd.

"I hope she finds them," Tragg remarked.

"Yeah… Me too," Sebias echoed. Shaking his head, the otter followed Tragg.

000000000000000

Sebias and Tragg were walking past the creatures who were lining up for food, when they suddenly heard a shout.

"Tragg! Tragg!" Flugg shook his cousin by the shoulders. "You're alive!"

"Flugg," the one eyed shrew's face lit up as he exclaimed, "I was so scared somethin' might have happened tae ye when we split in th' battle! Where's Tilda? Is she all right?"

"She's just fine! Come on, follow me! I gotta show ye something!"

Tragg had never seen Flugg looking so excited before. The shrew cocked his head. "What is it?"

Flugg bounced up and down as he began babbling like a brook. "Ye'll never guess, Tragg! I found them both by sheer luck! We were lookin' for ye everywhere! Quick! Quick!"

Flugg pulled Tragg along, Sebias falling behind once again. The otter shot Tragg a confused look. _He's probably even more confused than I am!_ Tragg thought wryly.

"Excuse Flugg," Tragg said, "He's normally not like this, ye know."

"Jus' come on!" Flugg exclaimed.

Rolling his eyes, Tragg complied. They weaved through the beasts until Flugg suddenly stopped and turned to grin at Tragg. He gestured for Tragg to look ahead.

Rones and Rosebud were talking worriedly to each other with their backs to him. Elmblade was there too, standing off a little way. The MacBurl squirrel was scanning the beasts around him, obviously looking for something. His keen eyes caught sight of Tragg and he gave out a whoop.

Rosebud turned around and she gasped. Running forward, she embraced her brother.

"It's ye! It's really ye! I knew ye were alive, I knew it!"

"How did ye get here?" Tragg asked. "How did ye know where we were?"

"Nightrwath's moles helped us! We never would've found ye if it hadn't been for them."

Questions flew thick and fast as all of the creatures tried to catch up on past events. Finally, Rones suggested grabbing a bite to eat and sitting down somewhere quieter, where they could talk in peace. The young ones agreed, and, after grabbing a few loaves of bread and some strawberry scones, they sat down in the corner of the hall and exchanged the tales of their adventures to each other.

0000000000000000

The following dawn, a massive crowd of creatures gathered to bid farewell to their fallen brethren. A grey fog pressed down on the sea, the gloom mirroring the grief of the woodlanders and their allies. Graves had been dug earlier in the morning for the Long Patrol slain, along with many of their allies. The vermin were piled into massive piles and burnt, their ashes swept into the wind.

Lord Rockfur awakened from his earlier unconsciousness long enough to insist that Brewster's body would be buried among the Badger Lords of old. "Brewster was one of my best and oldest friends." He had said, "I wish for him to always be remembered."

On the shore, the Rogue Crew prepared the bodies of their fallen kin, laying them in rafts and covering their bodies with wood pyres, as was their tradition. It was indeed a sad day for the Rogue Crew. Not only had their tribe lost more beasts than they had in many seasons, but their chief, Askarr Bonecrusher, had also fallen. Keva had found his body on the mountain slope, surrounded by a heap of hewn foes, his axe still clutched in his paws.

The many arrows had been removed from his chest and back, and the dreadful slashes and wounds that criss crossed his body were covered to the best of the healers' abilities. Baglarr and three others carried him to Keva Strongbow on a stretcher, setting his body down at her footpaws.

The young female otter knelt down beside him, rubbing her father's cold ears with her paws fondly. "Remember when I was young how I used to play with your ears an' whiskers, Father," she murmured, "You would always laugh." She brushed a tear from her eye. "I always loved when you would laugh."

Baglarr took a step forward. Bowing his head to Keva. The otter opened his mouth then closed it, as if unsure what to say. "I'm… so sorry," he stammered finally. "Askarr was a great chief. He will always be remembered."

Keva slowly dipped her head to Baglarr in a thankful bow. Standing up, she gave her father's corpse one last long glance.

The stretcher bearers lifted Askarr Bonecrusher up and brought him to the largest of the rafts, laying him on the top of a pyre of stacked wood.

Tharko's body was also there, on the raft next to Askarr's. Kirk stood, watching from the shore, Sebias and Skipper on either side of him. The black fox had rarely spoken since the battle the day before, though, he broke his silence to ask that Tharko would be sent to his watery grave with the rest of the Rogue Crew's fallen. "Tharko would've wanted it," Kirk had said. Keva had agreed to his request.

The black fox blinked for a few seconds, then wiped a paw across his eyes. He looked up as Keva walked over to him, holding a bow and a quiver of arrows. The tips of the arrows were wrapped with cloth and Kirk could smell the strong stench of oil.

"It is our custom to have ten beasts release several arrows apiece at the rafts once we push them off. We would be honoured if you would be one of them?"

Kirk nodded and accepted the bow and arrows as she handed them to him. "Aye," he grunted, his voice husky. "Thank you." Their eyes met for a moment, each seeing their own pain mirrored in the other's face.

Turning away, Keva gave the order and the rafts were pushed from the shore. The tide slowly pulled at the wooden vessels, like a mother giving her children a cold yet welcoming embrace. They let the rafts bob out until the mist began to blur them from sight.

Keva raised her bow, and Kirk, along with eight otters of the Rogue Crew, formed a line. They held out their arrows as an old, hunchbacked, female otter walked by. Carrying a torch, she lit the tips of the arrows solemnly, then stepped to the side.

Drawing their bows, the beasts released a volley. The flaming arrows arched through the foggy sky, landing with muffled thuds as they hit the pyres of wood on the rafts. The flames eagerly licked at the oil-soaked rags and wood. One by one the rafts went up into a _whoosh_ of flickering light.

Tragg watched as Sebias walked up to Kirk and stood by his side. For some reason, Tragg was fascinated by the dark-furred fox. He learned from Sebias that Kirk was a mighty, prophesied warrior of some kind. He and one of the deceased otters had shared a strong bond, but other than that, there wasn't much that Sebias knew about him.

The one eyed shrew glanced sideways at his friends and kin. Rones stood with his arm across Flugg's shoulders, Tilda and Elmblade standing a ways off. Rosebud, of course, was right beside Tragg. She tilted her head slightly as she caught his gaze, but then looked back at the departing rafts.

The one-eyed shrew breathed in deeply, looking once more at the fox standing by Sebias. He went over and, after a brief moment of hesitation, tapped Kirk's shoulder. As the fox turned around and looked at him, Tragg swallowed.

"Ach. I, um… I'm sorry that your friend died. I know what that feelin' is like – tae miss somebeast ye love dearly. I just…" Tragg kicked awkwardly at a rock in the sand. "…Wanted tae let ye know that ye're not alone. An' if ye need anythin', let me know." He wasn't sure why he added that last part, but it seemed like the right thing to say.

Kirk blinked and dipped his head in a bow. The fox turned and faced the sea again. Sebias gave Tragg a thankful gaze.

The three of them, along with the rest of the creatures, watched as the now-flaming rafts slowly disappeared into the fog, until all that could be seen was the light faintly piercing through the grey veil.

One by one, the beasts on the shore began to turn and walk back solemnly toward Salamandastron.

They all stopped as a cry rang out.

"I see a ship!" a hare called out. "In the fog, there!"

"What ho? I say! I bally-well see it, too! Looks like a bloody large one, too!"

Before long, the beasts could also hear the ominous sound of wood creaking and oars splashing, along with a muffled voice or two echoing out.

King Ironspear and Lord Nightwrath shared a glance. None of the creatures had been expecting trouble. Most of their creatures' weapons were left either in the mountain or in the Grey Warlord's army's camp.

The wildcat was merely dressed in a grey tunic and his cloak, but he had brought his massive spear with him. He took a few steps toward the sea, until the waves licked at his footpaws. Holding his spear aloft into the air, he let out a cry.

"Who sails upon the Western Sea? Be ye friend or foe?"

There was no response to Ironspear's challenge.

And then, the burly shape of a ship's prow suddenly cleaved through the fog. It was a corsair vessel by the look of it. A cry rang out from the ship's crow's nest, and shapes of beast could be seen running to and fro on the deck. It was still a little ways off, so the creatures on the shore couldn't quite make out all of the details of the mysterious ship or its crew.

"It looks like vermin!" a cadet cried out, "What if it's that wolverine's horde, coming back to avenge their master!"

"Quick, form ranks! We mustn't be caught unprepared! Those who have weapons, front and center! Wot!"

Tragg and the ones who didn't have weapons were shouldered to the back as the creatures got ready.

A booming shout suddenly came from the ship. "We come in peace!"

"What is your business?" Ironspear replied.

"We're former slaves from the isle of Terramort! Our captain requests permission to prepare a longboat and to come to shore!"

After a brief conference with the allied leaders, the request was granted, and the creatures watched as a longboat was lowered and made its way toward the shore. As they neared, it was obvious that the creatures inside were woodlanders, with the exception of one stoat.

The boat slid up onto the sand, and the beasts hopped out and pulled it out of the water a ways.

A shrew armed with many viscous scars came forward, accompanied by the one armed stoat.

Tragg tried standing up on his tiptoes, trying to get a peek at the mysterious beasts. However, that was exactly what hundreds of other, much taller beasts were trying to do, and so the shrews and shorter creatures had to be content with passed-along information.

"What do they look like?"

"It's a shrew and… and a bally vermin! They both look like they've been through some bally scrapes, wot."

Tragg had to remain content with this information only, as everyone babbled.

"And who," King Ironspear asked the two creatures, "may we have the pleasure of addressing?"

"Ach. Ye may call me Broge. An' this 'ere would be mae first mate, Slashblade." The shrew gestured to the stoat, who nodded. "As I said, we were former slaves. We overthrew our masters 'n' left their island in flames. We almost bumped intae a fleet o' corsair vessels just th' other day. They seemed taae much in a flurry tae pay heed tae us. Probably thought we were fellow corsairs. We, uh, we don't have much food left, 'n' a lot o' us need healers. We need a place tae stay. We'd be willin' tae work," the shrew added quickly. "An' we'd pay ye wit' what we got."

"You think you'd actually need to _pay_ us for tucker and refuge at Salamandastron?" Major Phillip scoffed. "Goodness, what happened to our bally reputation these days. Of course you may stay here! And I dare say that you can eat all the bally scoff that you can until you look as round as radishes! Wot wot."

Broge went back to the ship and gave the news to the other crew beasts, who cheered enthusiastically, many of which had tears running down their faces. Many of them had been slaves for seasons, and others for their entire lives! This was a fantasy come true.

They pulled the _Gutkeel_ as close into shore as they could, and began unloading. Hares were sent back to the mountain and came back with medicine, fresh cloths, and food, such as nuts, fruits, scones, and loaves of bread.

Tragg shouldered his way through the crowd. The _Gutkeel_ was driven into the sand, tilted slightly. A ramp had been lowered, and the former slaves that were still aboard were filing off.

 _These poor creatures…_ The shrew looked around to see if there was anybeast nearby that he could help. Tragg suddenly caught sight of somebeast in the midst of one of the groups of creatures.

Tragg froze. His heart missed a beat and his jaw dropped wide open. Standing in front of him was a beast that he thought he'd never see again. He stood there in a trance.

The lad's chest was heaving as he tried to breathe.

"Da!" Tragg choked out, picking up speed. "Da!"

Broge was talking with Slashblade when his ears pricked up. He spun around and his eyes opened wide. He only managed to take a shaky step backward, when Tragg plowed straight into him.

"Tragg!" Broge clung to his child. "Ye're alive!"

"Yes, Da, I am! Rosebud, too! An' Rones, 'n' Flugg! We're all alive! B-but they said _ye_ were dead!"

Tears trickled down Broge's salty face. "I don't believe it…"

There was a shocked scream, and not a moment later, Rosebud joined the hug with a squeal. "Father!"

The three of them stood there, locked in each other's arms. Tragg eyes were tightly closed, tears of joy trickling down his face as he breathed in his father's scent.

The creatures around them let out " _Awws!"_ and smiled fondly at the shrews' reunion. But Tragg ignored them. They were together again. And that was all that mattered.


End file.
